


Losing grip on sinking ships

by ladygriffyndor



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellarke, Best friend's brother, Drinking, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, New York City, Octaven, Smoking, Songfic, lots of references to Taylor Swift and when I say lots I mean LOTS
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-19 21:49:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 39,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7378612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladygriffyndor/pseuds/ladygriffyndor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke moves to New York City to take a job in the Met Museum, and maybe to try and move on from her last relationship too. Luckily she has Octavia and her new girlfriend Raven to get through it. And she has Bellamy too, but that might bring more trouble than it should. </p><p>A Bellarke 1989 AU, in which every chapter is a song and Bellarke has a long road to travel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to New York

**Author's Note:**

> Big shoutout to the cutest of all cuties Mia for helping me out with this <3

Clarke dropped her bags on the apartment floor, the echo filled the room and kept her company for a moment before disappearing. And then she was alone.

The place looked just the way it did on the background of her friend’s skype calls and instagram pictures: a beaten couch, three bookshelves overflowing with used books, some of the paintings Clarke had gifted to Octavia crooked on the walls, and empty mugs and beer bottles everywhere.

Octavia’s place was crappy, there was no other way of describing it. It was as small as a shoebox and the elevator was broken, but Clarke wished she could stay and crash on the couch rather than moving into her own apartment the next day. Unlike what she had told to her mother, she wasn’t quite ready to live on her own.

Abby Griffin had been less than pleased when Clarke decided to take a minor in Art History, but she had kept quiet even when the minor became a double major. Clarke aced all of her classes and entered medical school, as planned. It had taken quite a few fights and a Jake Griffin Intervention™ for Abby to agree to let her only daughter quit school and take a full time job in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. There were three conditions, of course. 

“First, I get to choose where you’ll live, I won’t be able to function normally if I have to think about you and Octavia living together. Secondly, you call twice a week or you will get a surprise visit, and I mean it. And third, will you _please_ at least check out NYU’s medical school?”

Her mother’s voice rattled in her brain and Clarke found herself missing the echo of her bags falling on the floor. Instead of dropping them again to fill the silence, she walked back to the open door she had just crossed and exited the apartment, locking it behind her.

“My apartment pretty much sucks, but the couch is really comfortable and just wait ‘til you see the view from the roof!” Octavia had said excitedly when Clarke had called to ask if she could crash at her place for a night before her apartment was ready.

She had never been to New York, but she always felt an itching on her fingertips when she saw pictures of the skyline, and right now Clarke was aching to draw something and get her mind off things. She headed to the stairs and decidedly climbed the six floors that separated her from the rooftop.

Just as Octavia had predicted, she was blown away by the beautiful scene in front of her, it wasn’t the typical skyline she saw in pictures, but it was breathtaking anyway. She walked to the edge of the roof and leaned against the bricks, her blue eyes wide as she took in the way the soft sunset light caressed the buildings. She opened her bag in search of her sketchbook and a pack of Lucky Strikes.

She took a drag of her cigarette and opened the notebook to a random page, only to find an old picture of herself and Finn wrapped around each other, laughing, surrounded by her biology books. The picture was kind of blurry, and Clarke could still hear Wells laughter when he took it. She could still feel the way Finn’s shaking laughter felt against her skin.

They had won king and queen at their senior prom, and everyone in their old town used to think they would eventually end up getting married. No one counted on Clarke deciding to do a double major _and_ volunteer at the children’s hospital, no one had imagined that they would grow distant and cruel with each other. No one –– Clarke least of all people –– would have thought that they would end up breaking each other’s hearts.

She sighed, feeling a sudden impulse to press her lit cigarette against the photograph and just watch it disappear into ashes. It would be a cathartic experience, to symbolize the fact that she was in a new city, ready to live a new life, and lock her broken heart inside a drawer she didn’t plan on opening. But before she could act on her impulses she heard someone opening the door to the roof.

Clarke turned around quickly, almost feeling as if she had been caught _in fraganti._ She stuffed her sketchbook, along with the wrinkled photograph, back into her bag and brought the cigarette to her lips again nonchalantly. _I wasn’t thinking of him!_ She felt like screaming, a sudden urge to defend herself flooding her. She decided against it when she recognized the freckled man that was walking to her with half a smile.

Again, her fingers tingled with desire to capture the image in front of her.

“Bellamy,” she said instead, blowing out the smoke before giving him a smile.

Even though she had seen him in person only twice (all in the span of three months) his name came to her mind easily. His eyes were just like Octavia’s, and his messy hair had bothered her since she had first seen a picture of him. Clarke had been friend’s with his sister since middle school, but by the time they became best friends he had already left home for college, which meant they never crossed paths during the girl’s numerous sleepovers.

But he had always been there: in pictures all over the Blake’s house, in the funny anecdotes Octavia shared proudly, and the New York City postcards that he had sent Clarke once on her birthday, so that she would have some drawing material. He was there at their high school graduation, taking pictures of the giggling pair and congratulating Clarke on her speech. He was there at his mother’s funeral, silent and unmoving, in a suit that fit perfectly but without the slightest idea of what to do with his hands during the ceremony.

And now he was there, right in front of her.

“Clarke,” he greeted kindly, giving her enough distance to continue smoking without breathing it all in. “Smoking’s bad for you." he said calmly, an amused grin on his face. "But you knew that, didn’t you, _med school?”_

Clarke rolled her eyes at the nickname, taking another drag of her cigarette. “You’d be surprised to know how many doctors smoke.”

Bellamy’s half smile stretched into a full one . “That habit better not rub off on O,” he teased, but she could hear the seriousness behind his humor.

“Octavia? That girl runs _marathons_ Bellamy, she’d die before compromising her lungs.” Clarke chuckled, flicking off the ash of her cigarette before taking it back to her lips.

“You had a good flight?”

She shrugged. “It was alright, nothing worthy of mention. I watched Finding Nemo on my laptop and slept.”

Bellamy nodded, looking down to his shoes as if he had written somewhere on his white converse what to say next. Maybe he had, because when he raised his gaze again, he began speaking.  “I’m glad you got here alright. O’s really excited to have you here, she’s missed you.”

Clarke nodded, her smile softening. She put out  her cigarette against the bricks and tossing it into a garbage can nearby.

“I missed her too,” she said fondly, clearing her throat right after, still unaccustomed to sharing her feelings. It was nothing Bellamy didn’t know already, though. When Aurora Blake died, Octavia had suddenly cancelled her plans to move in with Clarke so that she could live in New York with her brother. Clarke understood, of course, but being without her best friend felt as if they had taken her better half away from her. Skype calls and texts were exchanged often, and Octavia visited whenever she could, but it just wasn’t the same. The moment the Met offer appeared Clarke jumped at the opportunity to be back with her, she was more excited about being with O than she was about the museum. “

She messaged me when I was coming up here. Something along the lines of ‘don’t walk around naked, Bellamy’s on his way home. I’m picking up Raven and pizza and we’ll be there soon,’” Clarke quoted, chuckling. 

Bellamy’s laughter was loud and carefree, it echoed inside her head and she found that she liked it.

“My dear sister, always looking out for my chastity.” He shook his head, still laughing.

“How did you find me anyway?” She asked, gesturing at the rooftop. “Or did you come here to smoke too?” She teased.

“I put two and two together, I saw your bags but you were nowhere to be found. You’re an artist, and this is your first time in New York. We live in a pretty shitty apartment, but the view is fucking great, so of course you’d be here. All the people that come to New York are looking for something more, and looking off to the horizon makes you feel like you might find it." Bellamy made a long pause, but somehow Clarke knew he was not done talking. "Trust me," he continued. "I get it.”

 

* * *

 

When Octavia arrived with her girlfriend, Raven and Clarke hit it off  immediately, which made Octavia squirm with delight.

Things were almost just the way they had been all through high school, with the TV on as  background noise and pizza on the coffee table. Clarke and Octavia caught up quickly and hit ‘play’ on their friendship as if there had never been a pause. They made plans to have their own ‘for old times’ sake’ slumber party on Friday at Clarke’s, but having Raven and Bellamy with them didn’t spoil their first night back together at all.

“You know what we should do?” Octavia said, tossing her third pizza crust onto Clarke’s plate for her to nibble on. “We should take you out, and we should get you very drunk.”

Raven sat up on the couch, excited at her girlfriend’s idea. “I know just the place!”

Clarke groaned. She was tired from her flight and all she wanted to do was talk to Octavia until they both fell asleep, but she also knew that once the idea was in her head there was no dissuading her best friend.

“Fine,” she grumbled in defeat.

Bellamy chuckled from his position on the other couch and Clarke looked at him sternly. The silent message was clear: _you’re coming too, asshole._ It took a few moments for him to break their eye contact.

“Fine.”

 

* * *

 

An hour later Clarke had showered, smoked another cigarette, and applied some eyeliner; in conclusion, she felt more human. She wore a black, floral crop top and a pair of dark skinny jeans. Octavia whistled at her as she exited the bathroom, and Clarke rolled her eyes, trying not to make eye contact with a very unashamed, naked Raven Reyes that was trying to decide which dress to wear.

“She’s very comfortable with her body,” Octavia informed Clarke needlessly.

Clarke laughed on her way out of the girl’s bedroom, before plopping down on the couch next to Bellamy. He’d  simply swapped his t-shirt for a nice button down and reapplied his cologne, which Clarke appreciated silently. There was a thick book on his lap, and Clarke pretended not to notice the way he appreciated her outfit change, his eyes taking in her curves. Similarly, Bellamy looked away as he pretended not to notice he had been caught checking her out. 

“You clean up nicely,” he complimented with a smirk, his eyes now glued to the printed pages. In return, she stole the book from his hands and took a look at the cover.

“You work in a museum too, right?” She asked nonchalantly, opening the book on a random page and admiring the artwork. On the page, Aphrodite emerged from the sea foam. Clarke smiled and returned it to the page he was in, handing it back.

“Yeah, at the Museum of Natural History. If you are asking this in hopes that I’ll give you an idea of what working in a museum is like, I’m afraid it might be kind of different at the Met.” Clarke beamed, her chest puffing a little at the thought of her new job. “I started as a janitor, while I was studying. And then as a tour guide. My third year in college I spent a semester in London thanks to a scholarship, and I worked as an assistant for a professor at the museum over there. He put in a good work for me back here, so I had a full time job after graduation, which really helped since O came to live here with me. And then she got into NYU, so tuition had to be paid.”

Clarke didn’t notice a change in his tone or anything like bitterness. She knew that before his mother’s sudden death he had been planning on taking a year to travel, but instead he had to give that up to work his ass off to pay for Octavia’s college the year after. He never complained, not once.

“I still give tours once in a while though,” he continued thoughtfully. “I like it, it’s kind of like being a teacher without the workload.”

Clarke opened her mouth to say something, but before she could voice anything Raven cleared her throat from behind the couch.

“Alright, you two nerds. Are we getting drunk or are you going to make heart eyes at each other all night?”

 

* * *

 

Octavia and Raven walked in front of them, hand in hand and looking as if they had been cut out from the pages of Vogue. The crowd opened to grant them access, both in awe and fear –– this worked on Clarke’s favor as she was too busy trying to take in every single detail from the city that never sleeps to pay attention to her steps.

She was consumed by the symphony of the traffic, the blinding billboards, the heartbeats under people’s coats. She couldn’t help but think of what Bellamy had said earlier: everyone came to New York trying to find something more. She definitely had, and she knew Octavia had too. She wondered what Bellamy had come here to find, and whether he had succeeded in finding it.

“I always thought you and Octavia would end up together,” Bellamy confessed after a moment, his secret hidden from his sister’s ears by the crowd. Clarke arched an eyebrow at him. “Even when you were dating… whatever-his-name-was in high school and through college… I don’t know, it seemed like you guys were _always_ together. She was happy when you were around. I almost dragged you here to to the city a few weeks after she moved in. She was so miserable here in the beginning _.”_

“His name was Finn,” Clarke started, ignoring the way her throat burned at the mention of his name. “And also, that’s ridiculous,” she continued, rolling her eyes in amusement.  “It’s like the whole ‘girls and boys can’t be friends’ bullshit. Girls who like girls can be _just_ friends, Bellamy.”

Before Bellamy could even think of something to reply, Octavia rushed towards Clarke, waving a foam Statue of Liberty crown on her hand before placing it on her head.

The blonde complained, but in the end she posed for the snapchat pictures and she laughed, because laughing with Octavia was always easy and healing. Like a long breath after a session of sobs.

Bellamy chuckled, shaking his head and placing his hand on Clarke’s back, walking behind Raven and his sister inside the club they had selected.  
“C’mon Princess.”


	2. Blank Space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out this **[gorgeous edit](http://antebellamy.tumblr.com/post/146860092542/losing-grip-on-sinking-ships-a-bellarke-modern)** Mia did for the story  <3  
> I hope you like this chapter!

Finn had been her first of a lot of things. When Clarke was young she got along  better with boys than with girls. It probably had something to do with the fact that her father had stayed at home with her, taught her to play baseball and how to properly cheer during a soccer match. Meanwhile, her mom worked long shifts at the hospital, always distant physically and emotionally. Back in elementary school Finn Collins, Wells Jaha and her had been inseparable. They were the problematic group that teachers had to tear apart in every class, the ones that pranked the upperclassmen and still got away with it.

They were a hurricane, and they were best friends.

Clarke and Wells were neighbors, they knew each other since birth and were practically family. Finn came along afterwards, when they all found themselves in detention during their second year. Their friendship survived the leap to middle school, and welcomed Octavia –– the girl that had punched a boy that was teasing Clarke, thus sealing their everlasting friendship –– with open arms.

The four of them were young and reckless, but mostly decided to be together forever. So it was only logical that Finn and Clarke ended up dating. 

They kissed for the first time during homecoming, when they were fifteen. They kept the secret for a long time, settling with being friends and nothing more. Why ruin a perfect dynamic? But as high school went by they found it harder, and rather useless, to hide the way they felt. One day they showed up to lunch holding hands and no one questioned it. They took the step from friends to lovers without skipping a beat, and things continued to be as easy as breathing.

Then came graduation, the group fell apart slowly after that. If Clarke had to pinpoint a moment, the _last_ moment in which the four of them were together as a team and not as a shaking house of cards, it would have been Aurora Blake’s funeral. The image was fresh in her mind, how Octavia had cried against her neck. And Wells had stroked both their backs as she sobbed. Finn watched over them, as if he was willing to protect them from whatever life wanted to throw at them. But he couldn’t.

Octavia moved to New York, and Finn made a last minute decision against going to college, finding a job as a waiter instead. What he really wanted to do was travel. He wanted to grab his guitar, his passport and Clarke’s hand and see where the wind took them. He often talked about road trips and adventures, but no matter the excitement in his eyes, Clarke was never bold enough to agree to them. Complying to her mother’s wishes, she agreed to go to the local university with Wells, focusing on her pre-med studies while Wells studied to become a politician.

She knew that Finn had given up on his dream of traveling across the world for her, he didn’t have to say it out loud for her to add two and two together. Clarke could feel the heavy guilt on her shoulders every time he went to visit her on campus. He felt tired and tied down to a job he hated, out of place and forgotten, and she was too busy and too tired to bring herself to care.

It was no time before the dynamic that had once been fluid and easy disappeared. Clarke and Wells moved in together in their second year, out of the campus residences and into a small apartment. They spent their days studying and focusing on their projects. They volunteered together, they helped each other prepare for their exams, and soon Finn was left out.

He didn’t fight hard to stay, though. He had a standing offer to move in with them, and he would change the subject whenever any of them invited him to an event. Clarke didn’t allow him to forget that when things finally ended, on the fateful summer before her senior year of college when their relationship fell apart completely.

Wells and Octavia stuck around, and the group limped without its missing limb but it continued to walk. Wells helped her get through the last year of studies and she made it to the top of her class, entering the medical school of her mother’s choice without a problem. Octavia laughed freely on the phone, reassuring Clarke that life went on, and that pain ended.

But she had yet to find the end of it.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

How exactly did Clarke end up dancing against him (rather than _with_ him) Bellamy didn’t know, but he wasn’t about to protest.

The two had drank a little too many margaritas, the music was loud and the lights mesmerizing. A few minutes before they had been talking about the fact that they hadn’t seen Octavia and Raven for a few songs, exchanging short sentences in each other ears in between heavy breaths and dancing. Bellamy wasn’t looking for his sister anymore, he was focused instead on the swaying of Clarke’s hips, in the sweet scent of her hair.

In the beginning Clarke had been kind of distant. Even if he had just had his first real conversation with her earlier that day, Bellamy knew that this couldn’t be her usual self. Anyone who was best friends with his sister couldn’t be this calm in a club, all of the stories he had heard about the great Clarke Griffin didn’t add up with what he was witnessing.

In the first half hour, Clarke swatted away two guys offering her drinks. Always charming and polite she sent them away quickly before returning her eyes to the table she was sharing with her friends, making no comments about it. It took two rounds of shots and a Selena Gomez song to come up for her to actually loosen up. Bellamy wondered what she had been thinking of before, but it didn’t matter, because when four songs later Clarke returned to the table she was not the same she had been before.

Her skin sparkled under the fluorescent lights, her smile was wide and effortless and she brought margaritas on the house for everyone. She leaned over the bar, eyelashes fluttering and free drinks coming up, she danced with Octavia, and then she danced with Raven. She danced with random girls on the dancefloor, and then she danced with some guys; she danced away from them all just as easily, enjoying the way their eyes followed her as she ignored them. Her cherry lips were always curved in a smirk and Bellamy soon found that he couldn’t tear his eyes off her.

After a while she returned to the table, she ordered more shots and more margaritas. The tequila was running through his system like adrenaline. So, when she asked if he danced, he replied “I do.”

Her hand was cold when she pulled him with her towards the dance floor, but he knew right in that moment that he’d follow her anywhere. He wanted to convince himself that it was only out of pride, because she wanted to dance with him instead of all the other cute guys that had asked her before. Nothing more.

But he knew it wasn’t like that. Not entirely.

Raven and Octavia joined him after a couple of songs, the four of them singing their lungs out and dancing under the crystal skies. It was inevitable (or at least he tried to convince himself of it), they were an even number after all, before they knew it Clarke and Bellamy were dancing together. Their steps coordinated without speaking, their skins touching once in a while, sending shivers down his spine as if he was being electrocuted.

“You’re the king, baby. I’m your queen,” Clarke sang in his ear, her heels allowing her to see him eye-to-eye, though more often than not their eyes flickered to the other’s lips.

It was hypnotizing, the way her body brushed against his and how he could hear her clearly despite the music. Magic, madness, heaven, sin… it was all a whirlwind inside of Bellamy’s head. And Clarke was the eye of the hurricane.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Clarke collapsed against the ratty couch at Octavia’s. Her friend had been in a rush to announce she was spending the night at Raven’s. They had disappeared almost for the entire night anyway, so Clarke didn’t miss them when it was just her and Bellamy left in the dance floor. A couple of songs afterwards they silently agreed to leave the club. Clarke hadn’t been able to stop her head from throbbing at the rhythm of imaginary music on the whole ride home, and whenever she closed her eyes she could see the fluorescent multicolor lights dancing on her eyelids. Bellamy had shook her gently when the taxi reached his apartment, she had fallen asleep on his shoulder.

The two had braved the stairs, taking breaks to giggle or lean against the wall trying to regain their balance. Equally drunk, the two of them stumbled inside the apartment, finding that they were not tired at all.

“The world’s spinning,” she protested and he laughed.

“The world is _always_ spinning. Being drunk just makes you aware of it.”

“I don’t want to be hungover tomorrow,” Clarke groaned, her face against the worn fabric of the couch. Bellamy’s laughter shook the couch and she smiled, looking up.

“Did you have fun today, princess?” His voice was low, and only slightly slurred. Clarke nodded, giving him a kind smile as she attempted to make the room stop swirling. He took that as a cue to continue. “I’m glad. You didn’t seem to be having much fun in the beginning.”

“And then the tequila kicked in,” she cut him off, sensing the conversation was heading towards treacherous subjects. She was a little too drunk to know when it was time to stop talking, so she tried to stop before they started. 

Bellamy, on the other hand, was drunk enough to not care about her privacy, or to read between the lines. “What were you thinking of?”

Clarke pursed her lips looking down to her lap, it took her a long moment to decide whether or not she wanted to answer his question. But once she decided to talk, the words couldn’t stop pouring from her mouth.

“Remember what you said earlier on the roof? How everyone comes here looking for something?” She paused, but she didn’t check to see if he was following. “I guess that is valid for some people, but not everyone. What if I came here to forget something? Does that count?”

It took Bellamy a couple of seconds to realize she was actually expecting an answer this time.

“I guess it does. I mean… I’m pretty sure everyone has their reasons, and they are all valid.”

“What did you come here to find?”

Bellamy shifted uncomfortably on his seat, the whole couch moving with him, or so it seemed to her. Her fingers closed around a handful of fabric.

“Nevermind,” she murmured, finally looking up to meet his eyes. “You don’t want to tell me what you came here looking for, and I don’t want to tell you what I came here to forget. So we should just stop and leave it like that.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his brown eyes burning into her blue ones. “We should stop. You know, before we do anything stupid.”

“Anything we could regret,” she concluded, agreeing with him. Because suddenly it didn’t matter anymore, none of it did.

Clarke didn’t care about whatever it was that had driven Bellamy to New York, she didn’t care that his actions had eventually and indirectly led to the downfall of her beloved friend group. She didn’t even care about the things Finn had said, the things she herself had thrown at him in order to convince him finally leave. The tears, the missed calls, the punches against the wall that didn’t solve a thing, they didn’t matter. She didn’t care about the long list of ex lovers that she had collected after Finn went missing.

The only thing Clarke cared about was Bellamy, and the way his face was the only thing in the world that wasn’t spinning. She only cared about his freckles, that looked like a million constellations on his cheeks, brighter than any lights that she had seen in the city. She only cared about the way she had felt in the dance floor: young and reckless again, ready to take things a little too far with her best friend’s brother, even if they had just met and the whole thing could go up in flames the morning after. She only cared about the way Bellamy’s eyes brushed her lips, as if she could already feel him against her.

Clarke leaned in and Bellamy did the same, his lips parted and she could smell his breath, like a little too many tequilas. Ready to get drunk on him, Clarke leaned in a little bit closer, but before their lips could meet he was gone.

Bellamy dodged her, grabbing her by the shoulders to stop her from falling on top of him. Breathless and dizzy, Clarke struggled to sit back up. Her eyes looking at him quizzically, waiting for an explanation.

“I’m sorry Princ– _Clarke_. I can’t… I can’t do this. I have a girlfriend.”


	3. Clean

****Clarke woke up and silently begged to the tequila gods to spare her from a hangover. For a moment it was all quiet, and it seemed like she was actually going to have her wish granted, but the second she opened her eyes and the sunlight hit her face, the headache started with full force. Clarke pulled the covers on top of her face and groaned as the memories rushed into her head. The evening had been going perfectly before she ruined it by being impulsive. She didn't feel too bad about it though, her guilt was eased both by the fact that she was too tired to feel genuinely guilty, and the clear memory of Bellamy responding to her advances. It clearly hadn't been just her fault.

“Do I smell coffee?” She murmured from under the covers, trying to decide if the scent of coffee was a product of her imagination or not.

“Yeah,” Bellamy’s voice came from somewhere in the apartment, but Clarke refused to come out from underneath the covers to figure out where he was. “You want a cup?”

Clarke hummed in approval, and then proceeded to make a second attempt at opening her eyes. It was easier with the promise of a cup of coffee, but it still feel like thunder was trapped inside her brain. She stood from the couch and undid her messy bun as she walked towards the kitchen.

Bellamy smiled at her and pushed the coffee cup towards her.

“Milk? Sugar? Aspirin?” He offered, rattling the box before popping a couple of pills in his mouth and swallowing them with a sip of coffee.

“Sugar,” she accepted, smiling when he handed it to her. “You shouldn’t mix alcohol and aspirins… it could lead to internal bleeding.”

“I’ll take the risk, my head is killing me.”

Clarke chuckled softly and shook her head, stirring the sugar on her coffee. “I think I’ll settle with coffee and a cigarette, thank you.” She set the spoon on the counter before turning around, walking towards her bag and searching for her pack of cigarettes and lighter, swallowing hard when she spotted the wrinkled picture of Finn on the bottom of her bag. “So I’m gonna take my coffee to the roof.”

If he noticed the way her smile fell, or the different tone in which she spoke, she never knew.

“Mind if I join you?” He asked after a moment, Clarke stopped with her hand wrapped around the doorknob. Their eyes met for an instant and her grip on her coffee cup tightened. She could only think about how incredibly not awkward it was to speak with him, definitely not what she had been expecting for their first conversation after the almost-kiss to be. 

“Not at all.”

The two made their way upstairs in silence, and Clarke couldn’t help but think of the last time they found themselves in a similar situation. With her heels dangling from her hand, their chests going up and down rapidly as they tried to catch their breath from laughing, stumbling closer and closer to each other. 

Bellamy waited until she took out her cigarette to talk, giving her the perfect excuse to avoid his eyes.

“So, about last night…”

“I’m not heartbroken, Bellamy.” Clarke said after blowing out a puff of smoke. “You don’t need to give me any apologies or explanations. I’m just glad we stopped.”

The freckled man nodded, pursing his lips and looked away. “Me too.”

“Look, Bell,” Clarke sighed. She rested the coffee cup on the edge of the roof and focused on the weight of the cigarette in her fingers. “We were drunk, and to be honest I was lonely and sad. And you were handsome and I thought you were available. But I like talking to you, and you are my best friend’s brother. I’m glad we didn’t ruin this friendship. No hard feelings, no awkwardness. It was nothing but a night of healthy, drunk flirting.”

She took the cigarette to her lips, taking a drag before looking up at him. He had an eyebrow raised and his trademark half smile on his lips.

“You think I’m handsome?”

“I was drunk, and not wearing my glasses.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a ‘don’t make me push you off the roof’.”

“Whatever you say, princess.”

 

* * *

 

When Clarke came out of the shower an hour later, Bellamy was gone. But Octavia was back, and she had brought apology donuts for bailing on her on her first night in the city.

“You should have slept on my bed, Clarke. That old couch is uncomfortable as hell.” Clarke rolled her eyes, picking a chocolate donut. “Or you could have just slept at Bellamy’s,” Octavia teased. “You two seemed to hit it off real good last night.”

Clarke focused on her donut for a moment, taking a bite before replying. “We did. But he has a girlfriend, and he made sure to mention it a second before we kissed.” There was no point of hiding it from Octavia, she knew her too well.

“Leave it to him to stand his moral ground while wasted,” Octavia grumbled. “I was really hoping I’d walk in and find you in his bed, I had a whole speech prepared.”

“You both need to stop pushing me towards the other.”

Octavia raised her eyebrow at the same time she picked a donut.

“He told me yesterday he always thought we would end up together.”

Her best friend mused on it silently as she worked on her donut, Clarke did the same and the two fell in a comfortable silence.

“Will you marry me if we are both single at forty, Griffin?”

“We’d make a great couple,” she agreed. They used their donuts to toast to it.

 

* * *

 

Once Octavia had showered and changed, the two girls made their way into the city. Clarke toyed with the keys to her new apartment the whole ride, and Octavia only spoke to point landmarks through the windows, although she had an interesting criteria. She didn’t let any good pizza place go unmentioned, but when they drove past the Empire State she didn’t say anything.

By the time they arrived to her apartment, the move-in people were already there.

“You know, when you said ‘help me move in’ I thought you meant like, ‘come over and help me bring up furniture’. Not ‘come over and let’s watch how these guys bring up furniture’.” Octavia was leaning against the wall, her face was sporting a smirk that was just like her brother’s –– effortless, sassy and adorable. Clarke chuckled and rested next to her, watching how the move–in people worked their magic.

“I meant it in a ‘keep me company, help me rearrange when they are gone and drink wine with me to celebrate’ kind of way.”

Octavia beamed at her, and the two managed to stay away from everyone’s way until they were finished and all the furniture was in its place. Clarke observed her best friend wander through the apartment, running her hands across the designer furniture, finally plopping into the couch that had absolutely no cracks at all. Even when they had never talked about it, Clarke had always felt guilty whenever Octavia dropped by her place, as if she was rubbing her money in her face without intending to.

“It’s creepy, I can kind of feel like your mother is here, you know?”

Clarke laughed. “I hope that wears off. She came by a few weeks ago, picked the place and the furniture herself. And probably casted a spell too.”

“With what purpose?”

“Dragging me back to Med School?” Clarke mused as she walked towards the couch, laying down so that her head rested on Octavia’s lap. Her friend agreed with a nod, her fingers moving immediately to comb Clarke's hair.

“You think you will go back to Med School? NYU is pretty great, I think you’d like it.”

“I have a full time job, O. I don’t have time for Med School.”

“I don’t know why, but it doesn’t sound like that’s your real reason for not going back.” Clarke pursed her lips, sitting up so she could comfortably avoid looking at Octavia in the eye. The silence stretched and Octavia squeezed her leg gently. “Is it Finn?”

“He’s just everywhere, you know?” Clarke sighed, finally looking up at O, saying what they both knew but she had never dared to say out loud. “After we broke up I thought I’d be fine. I mean, there was absolutely no reason for us to awkwardly run into each other, or end up in the same room. But his shirts were on my drawer, and he had written notes on my post its, and the flowers we had grown together died of thirst, and I had to wash all of my sheets twice to make them stop smelling like him.”

Octavia gave her a sad smile, urging her to continue by tucking in her hair behind her ear.

“I just, I couldn’t take it. I had forgotten about the job I had applied for here in New York. But I was failing my classes anyway, so I just gave up _._ There was no forgetting him there, O. He was all over me, like a wine stained dress I can’t wear anymore, but that I refused to throw away. And I am afraid that if I go back to Med School, if I return to the kind of things I was doing back then, I will want to speak to him again.”

“Wait. You talked to him after the break up?”

“Yeah,” Clarke confessed, looking down. “I’m sorry, I know I wasn’t supposed to call him. But sometimes it just _happened,_ I was sad and lonely. And he was too. Sometimes we just needed to hear each other’s voices. But we haven’t talked in a while, I have absolutely no idea where he is. And he doesn’t know I’m here either.”

“Well that’s good, isn’t it?” Octavia offered, trying to cheer her up. “This is a brand new city, Clarke. There are no traces of him here, you can move on at last.”

“I can. Don’t worry, I’m not going to call him. I wouldn’t risk it at this point, but just because I know I have to move on it doesn’t mean I don’t miss him, alright?"

 

* * *

 

Clarke placed the bottle of wine in the fridge and stared at it for a moment. It was quite a sad sight, inside her fridge there was nothing but some thai leftovers Octavia had left behind, and half a bottle of red wine. She checked her phone for the hour and pushed it into the back pocket of her pants. She had enough sunlight left to go and make an emergency run to the grocery store. Buying toilet paper was probably the adult thing to do.

Clarke stuffed a few reusable grocery bags on her handbag and exited her apartment. The crowd swallowed her immediately, but she didn’t mind. She had checked where the closest grocery store was and she was pretty sure she could find it without pulling out Google Maps. Clarke lit up a cigarette as she walked, only to regret it when the thunder was heard. She looked up to the menacing clouds and took a long drag of her cigarette.

“Shit.”

She walked quickly, trying to curse and smoke at the same time, thinking about the umbrella she had left at home. Home, should she call it that way already? She hardly had time to think about it, as the rain started with great force. She had never seen rain like that, it was instantly strong and ruined her cigarette within seconds.

By the time she got to the store she was soaking wet. Her bag was dripping so she hurried to try and rescue her things. Only a few pages of her sketchbook were damp, but nothing the hairdryer couldn’t fix. Everything else seemed to have survive the rain except for her cigarettes and the already wrinkled picture she had seen earlier.

With a quivering breath, she threw both of them at the garbage can and took a long breath before grabbing a cart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kind comments! I am so happy you guys are enjoying this story!


	4. New Romantics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of your comments and kudos! You make me so so happy!

Bellamy didn’t go clubbing with them anymore. At first Clarke was worried about third wheeling with the girls, but the three of them fit seamlessly and there was never an awkward moment in their outings. They danced, laughed and had a blast whenever they went out together, and more often than not Clarke could find a fourth person to keep her company.

If she was still living in her old town she would have worried, she knew what kind of terrible and cruel rumors came with dancing with strangers. But New York was different, the faces under the bright fluorescent lights changed every time the girls went dancing, and she never crossed paths with any of them during daylight. 

Clarke had always been a fan of big, symbolic and cathartic experiences. She thought of the rain she had experienced the first day on her new apartment as a sign: she was supposed to either move on or stop smoking. But seeing that she could never do the former, she focused on the first. And according to Octavia’s recipe to forget an ex once and for all, she was supposed to party a lot, sleep around for a while and mainly be happy. So if those were the rumors that would spread about her, Clarke could live with them. 

Her new job helped too. Unlike what her mother had told her, she never found herself bored working on the registrar. She enjoyed finally giving use to the French lessons she had been forced to take while making phone calls to other museums, and there was something calming about making inventory. 

The curator with whom she worked, Lincoln, was a tall and kind man. From the moment Clarke met him she knew he was talented, and just following him around as he planned a new exhibit filled her with pride and joy. She never once woke up without excitement about spending her day at work, she kept herself busy and entertained. 

“You sound happy,” her dad said one night on the phone. “I hadn’t heard that in a while. I’m glad the happy you back.”

They talked for a few minutes more before they said goodbye and Clarke tucked herself into her bed. The bedroom was the only room Abby hadn’t decorated. Clarke was making small progress but she was loving it so far. The walls were a soft purple, and her books took over most of the floor because she hadn’t bought any bookshelves just yet. But it was fine, because it was home. 

* * *

The Museum of Natural History was a 20 minute walk away from the Met –– well, fifteen, but who walks in a rush through Central Park? Bellamy and Clarke ate lunch together on Thursdays, he usually had lunch with Gina, his girlfriend who worked at the museum with him, but Thursdays were Gina's day off, so Bellamy walked across the park to have lunch with Clarke.

It was Tuesday, and Clarke was sitting on the stairs of the museum with Miller. He was a guard in the museum and they enjoyed each other’s company, they were both sarcastic and didn't feel the need to fill every single silence with boring small talk. They played cards during lunch, and that’s what they were doing when Bellamy walked upstairs, startling them both. 

Before Clarke could ask him what he was doing there he offered his hand to her, it was shaking. “You up for a walk, Princess?” His voice was shaking too. 

Clarke blinked twice, confused. It took her a few seconds to register the strong hand he was offering her, and the strong need to grab it that she had. She cleared her throat and looked at Miller, he had an amused look on his face when he nodded towards Bellamy. 

“Don’t be late, Griffin. I’ll see you around.” From the corner of her eye she watched the way Miller picked up the wrappings from their burgers and the cards before standing up. “Poker, by the way.”

“I was about to play my ace,” she murmured before grabbing Bellamy’s hand, accepting his help to stand up from her sitting position on the stairs. Clarke waited until they were walking away from the museum to look up at his face. 

Bellamy’s lips were pursed, and he was looking forward, visibly upset as he guided Clarke into the park. 

“You alright?”

His hold loosened on her hand and he sighed, finally letting go of it and letting it drop to her side. Clarke struggled to keep up with his fast pace, but she managed, he often forget that his legs were much longer than hers. 

“You know that feeling, when you are waiting for a train that just ain’t coming?” He asked, stopping rather abruptly to look at her. Clarke braked quickly, trying both to process his words and not fall down at the same time. She parted her lips to answer but he shook his head. “Nevermind. I had a fight with Gina, I needed to get the hell out of that office. Sorry about interrupting you.”

“Don’t worry about it, Bell.” Clarke said kindly, offering him a smile. 

In the past few weeks the two had grown quite close. They had helped Octavia hand out the bright pamphlets about yet another old building she wanted to protect, they had taken advantage of each other’s discounts to visit museums around the city. He was always up for going to the theatre, book shopping, or to try a new restaurant she had read about online. Sometimes Octavia and Raven joined, and even once Gina had tagged along too. 

Gina had a small but honest smile, she was smart and beautiful. Very obviously Bellamy’s type. He had told her that she worked two jobs, as a bartender and tour guide, in order to pay off her student loans. Clarke liked her, despite only having seen her a couple of times and not hearing much about her. Bellamy didn’t speak much about Gina or their relationship, but he didn’t have to for Clarke to know he loved her.

The blonde pushed him towards a bench, arching an eyebrow once they were sitting. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“She wants to move in,” he blurted out, pausing for a second before swallowing loudly and running his hand through his hair. “Well, she wants  _ me  _ to move in with her. But I can’t do that Clarke. You know O, she loves her job but she is not going to make money by saving the world. I don’t mind paying for the rent, I really don’t. But I can’t pay  _ two  _ rents, even if I split Gina’s.” 

“And did you tell her that?”

“I did! But before I could finish my argument she was all over my throat. For Christ’s sake, the employees cafeteria isn’t a place for that kind of discussion.” 

Clarke hummed, clearing her throat softly before speaking again, tentatively this time. “Alright, you can’t move in with her. But do you  _ want  _ to? Octavia could come live with me, I have another room. You could make it work, if you wanted to.”

Bellamy had been watching her, as if she hid the answers to his problems somewhere in her blue eyes. But as soon as she posed the question he looked away. 

“I don’t know. I guess that’s why she got so upset.”

“What did she say?”

The silence stretched and Clarke sighed, bumping her shoulders with his. He was looking at his feet, obviously uncomfortable with the whole situation, so she decided to stand up. It was his turn to stare at her hand blankly for a few seconds. 

“I’ll buy you ice cream. Stop moping Blake.”

His mood changed considerably once he had a cone of Vanilla Caramel Brownie –– or how Clarke affectionately called the flavor: cholesterol. They moved on to happier topics, like the new exhibit on Roman Goddesses that Bellamy was planning, and the funny accent Clarke spoke with whenever she hung up the phone after a particularly long talk with France. 

Bellamy offered to walk her back to the Met and she accepted, his face was more relaxed, but she could tell that he was still thinking of Gina. And she couldn’t help but wish there was something else she could do to help. The thought dissipated as soon as he stopped by the door. 

“She says it’s because of you,” he said quietly, his brown eyes burning into hers. “She says I’ve changed. That we’ve been dating nine months and it’s about time we take the next step, that it used to seem to her like I was ready to take that step, but that ever since you got here I’m…. reluctant.”

Clarke stared at him silently, feeling as if a bomb had been dropped and the whole city was tumbling. 

“But that’s not true, isn’t it?” Her voice was choked, and for the first time in weeks she thought about that night in his apartment, her first night in New York. With his lips so close to her before he pulled away. 

He laughed, looking away. 

“Yeah, she was talking nonsense.”

* * *

 

It was getting dark on a Sunday, a week later, when Bellamy entered his apartment and slammed the door behind him. Clarke was sprawled across the couch with Octavia, lazily sketching a castle while O worked on yet another letter to the mayor. The two girls turned around at the loud slamming of the door, but Bellamy could only see his sister’s head from where he was standing.

“She broke up with me," he complained as he made his way across the apartment. "I go to her to try to make amends, explain her my point of view and she broke up with me. It wasn’t like I told her I was sleeping with Clarke, for Christ’s sake. I just told her I wasn’t ready to move in and sh–– _ it. _ ” What was obviously meant to be a ‘she’ became a curse on his lips as soon as he spotted the blonde in the couch. 

“Clarke,” he choked out. After a second he recovered, clearing his throat and fixing his jacket. His hair was messier than usual, and his eyes looked like they were about to flood any minute. Clarke’s heart sank. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“I noticed,” she said sitting up quickly and closing her sketchbook. “I can leave…”

“No, no… it’s fine. Isn’t this what you guys do? You rant to each other, eat ice cream and cry?” 

“Are you going to cry?” Octavia asked, raising an eyebrow. Bellamy let out a shaken scoff, dismissing her words with his hand, but even Clarke could tell that he was holding back tears. Octavia stood on the couch, opening her arms for him. Standing on the couch she was only barely taller than her brother, and Bell took the offer, walking to hug his sister tightly. Clarke looked away, it seemed a too intimate moment to intrude. 

“It’s her loss, you know? I mean… sure, she was pretty awesome and way out of your league...” Octavia teased, finally letting go. Bellamy chuckled. “I’m kidding. What I really mean is that you were honest, and she is a bitch not to appreciate that.”

Bellamy sighed and walked around the couch, sitting on the coffee table in front of them. Octavia turned around and plopped herself back on her seat, biting her lip. 

“She was so offended, as if I had given her an engagement ring and then just taken it away. ‘ _ Yes! Leave me stranded, it’s so romantic!’”  _ He rolled his eyes as he quoted Gina, taking a moment to wipe his damp eyelashes. “But I never said I wanted to move in before? We dated nine months, that’s not a lifetime. What is her rush anyway?”

“Well, you are not getting any younger.”

Bellamy glared at her sister and Clarke shook her head, repressing a smile.

“Want advice? From one heartbroken to another?” She offered softly, nudging his knee with hers.

“Are you going to call me old too?”

“Nah,” Clarke rolled her eyes. “Things that are meant to stay together don’t fall apart. It sucks to be knocked off your feet, we all know that. But you gotta suck it up. And I am not saying right now, you do have a right to mope and be angry and fall down a couple of times. But in the end you suck it up, you learn from it and you move on to the next.”

“Look at you, med school,” Bellamy mused after a couple of seconds, trying on a feeble smile. “Wisdom beyond your age.”

“That’s why I keep her around,” Octavia said, beaming. “Now, should I get the ice cream? Seems like heartbreak is the national anthem today.”

Clarke laughed, standing up. “Well, I do sing it quite proudly. And I’d love to stay for ice cream, but I gotta go.”

“Why? You don’t work tomorrow, you can stay over,” Octavia offered before Bellamy could say anything. 

It was hard to tell with the crappy lighting, but Clarke seemed to blush as she pushed her sketchbook inside her bag. 

“I have a date, kinda. A party.”

“But we are throwing a pity party right here!” Octavia protested. 

Clarke laughed and leaned across the couch to kiss Octavia’s cheek. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” She turned around to face Bellamy and tapped his chin, swallowing hard. “Stay strong. I’ll see you for lunch on Tuesday, alright? And don’t forget you have a date with Pottery Barn on Sunday.”

“Well,” he grumbled, looking away. “I guess I will take all the dates I can get.”

* * *

 

Clarke silenced her phone after the third time it rang. She hated not being able to hear her phone, there was something about her medical training that made her want to be sure she was reachable at all times. But Bellamy seriously looked like he was about to murder someone every time her ringtone went off, so she muted it before dropping it back on her bag. 

She pretended not to think much of it as she crossed the doors to Pottery Barn, but he was obviously not quite ready to let it go. 

“Is it the guy from the  _ kinda _ date?” He teased. 

“Girl,” she corrected with a shrug, stopping to eye a tall lamp. “And maybe? It’s an unknown number, and I never really quite saved hers.”

“You went on a date with her and you didn’t save her number?”

“I’ve been going on a lot of dates.”

“You don’t say.”

Clarke looked up to face him, her eyes wide and her mouth half open, as if she was trying to recover from the blow. Panic rushed through his brown eyes before he shut them closed, rubbing his face with his strong hands. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Princess. I didn’t mean it that way, I didn’t mean it  _ at all _ . I am currently in my ‘I’m entitled to be an asshole’ post-break up phase. I’m sorry.”

She took a deep breath, choosing to pretend he had never said that and tugged on his hands to remove them from his face. “Alright. You used your asshole card today, now your job is to be nice and carry heavy furniture. Alright?”

He gave her a sheepish smile before nodding. “Ma’am, yes ma’am.”

She rolled her eyes and they walked further into the store. Clarke had her eye on some very cute white bookshelves, and within a few hours they were being delivered to her house. Bellamy helped the delivery guys to carry them to the elevator, and then proceeded to carry them with Clarke’s help to her room. 

“What do you have in the other room anyway? I mean, seeing that Octavia and I will be roommates for a while longer,” he asked in between panting once the shelves were on their respective places. 

“Oh,” Clarke blushed. “My studio. It’s a work in progress, my mom ordered the furniture and it’s all there but I… I guess I still need to make it mine. Feel free to peep.” 

She didn’t need to tell him twice. Bellamy walked down the hall and opened the door to the studio. Empty canvases were leaning against the wall, the distinctive smell of oil painting came from the racks that held different tubes. An easel with a canvas waiting to be painted on stared at him, and he smiled, resting his hand on the large drawing table. 

“It looks pretty cool to me.”

“That’s just because you have to be nice for the rest of the day,” she teased him and they both laughed. “Thanks for helping me out today.” Clarke’s smile turned into a more honest one, leaning against the doorframe. 

“No problem,” he said, tearing his eyes from the easel to look at her. He threw his jacket over his shoulder and gestured towards the door. “I guess that’s my cue.”

It was painfully obvious that he didn’t want to leave. And Clarke didn’t want him to go. 

“Or you could stay. I mean, we could order Chinese. You can help me put the books in the shelves.” She shrugged, her eyes lingered for a moment on her brushes before looking up at Bellamy. 

His face had brightened, and Clarke’s heart skipped a beat without her permission. 

“I’ll order the food.”

 

An hour later they were sitting in the middle of mountains of books, taking breaks from literary discussions to work on their noodles. Bellamy insisted that the best way to arrange the books was either by year or by genre, but Clarke wanted to color code her shelves. 

After he gave in and they started to actually place the books on their place, her stomach was slightly sore from laughing. Jokes and comments traveled back and forth easily, just the way it had been before. During the past week Bellamy had definitely not been the same. He didn’t have to say it for her to know: he was heartbroken. But there was something more, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. 

Clarke stopped overthinking when her phone buzzed on top of her copy of The Goblet of Fire, interrupting him in the middle of his anecdote of a kid trying to steal some bones from an exhibit at the museum.

Bellamy’s smile disappeared instantly, his eyes were glued to the screen, as if he was trying to decipher the name of the caller by staring at the numbers. Clarke’s smile died as she declined the call, only looking back at him when he shoved a book into her shelf a little harder than necessary. 

“Alright, that’s it. What the hell is your problem?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Do you have a problem with me dating other people, Bellamy? Because you surely do seem to have a problem with my phone ringing.”

He looked away from the shelf to fix his eyes on her, she had never seen them glow with hatred. But there’s a first for everything. 

“You just  _ love  _ rubbing it on my face, don’t you Princess?” Clarke didn’t have time to register how much it hurt to have him spit the nickname at her. “I was dumped less than a week ago, so I would really appreciate it if you stopped showing off your parade of fuckbuddies in front of me.”

Clarke stood up rapidly, glaring at him as she took advantage of her unusual height. Her anger didn’t falter when he stood too, towering over her. 

“You don’t have a monopoly on heartbreak, you know? What I do or don’t do is none of your business. Where the hell is this coming from anyway? What do you care if I sleep around with half of New York?”

“You are right, I don’t. Go ahead, fuck your way out of heartbreak. Go on all the dates you want and don’t save any of the numbers, drink all you want and regret it the next morning when you don’t know who the hell is in bed next to you. Smoke all you want to try to forget the fact that none of what you did was good enough to get Finn to stay. See if I care.”

The slap echoed in the room. Clarke felt her palm throb before she could register what she had done, but once she figured it out she couldn’t bring herself to care. Bellamy looked more shocked than hurt, the red mark across his face almost glaring back at her. A few seconds after he locked eyes with her, but she didn’t need to talk. He read her easily, and this time Bellamy took his cue, slamming the door on his way out of her apartment. 

Clarke cried in silence for a while, not letting out a real sob until she turned around to face her reflection on the full length mirror. The mascara running down her cheeks, smeared in her throbbing hand, and Bellamy’s jacket thrown across the bed behind her. She couldn’t stop the sobs after that.


	5. Style

The week was torture. Miller was wise enough to not ask why Bellamy hadn’t been around during lunchtime lately, but Clarke could see the question in his eyes whenever they sat on the stairs to play poker quietly. Whenever conversation did spark between them Clarke was careful to talk only about work or Miller’s boyfriend Monty, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t think of Bellamy.

She thought of him a lot. 

When she had chosen to party her way out of heartbreak she had expected a lot of people to judge her, but she hadn’t cared about that. She didn’t care about the way the doorman rolled his eyes whenever she walked inside the building with a new person on her arm. She didn’t care about the people laughing at her as she walked back to her apartment in the morning, wearing yesterday’s party clothes and not letting the smile disappear from her face. 

But she had never expected Bellamy to judge her. He was her friend, and he more than anyone should have understood what it was like to desperately try to find a way to get over heartbreak. But that did not give him the right to insult her the way he had. 

Clarke had only seen Octavia twice during the week, and she had been avoiding her calls with excuse texts, claiming she had been busy working or out with someone. Truth was, she knew Bellamy was sorry, she knew whatever it was that had triggered him into hurting her was eating him alive now. But Clarke wasn’t quite ready to forgive him, and she wasn’t ready to forgive Octavia for telling him about Finn. 

_ “Go ahead, fuck your way out of heartbreak. Go on all the dates you want and don’t save any of the numbers, drink all you want and regret it the next morning when you don’t know who the hell is in bed next to you. Smoke all you want to try to forget the fact that none of what you did was good enough to get Finn to stay.” _

The words he had thrown at her echoed in her mind every night as she tried to fall asleep. It had taken her months to finally shake the feeling that it had all been her fault, that she had not been good enough for Finn to stay. It took her a large amount of pain to put her feelings away and look at the whole picture in perspective. But Bellamy’s words had taken her back to the dark place she had sunk in after the break up. 

In summary: the week had been torture. She sighed, trying to focus back on her work when a window popped on her laptop’s screen. She hesitated on the buttons, finally pressing the one with a small camera on it. Her image appeared in a small square on the corner, she was still wearing the red lipstick she had applied on the morning, but her hair was now messy and her clothes rather lazy. She fixed her hair quickly before Wells’ face showed in the screen, a weak smile appeared on her face immediately. 

“Who are you and what the hell did you do with my best friend?” He greeted. She laughed. 

“What do you mean?”

“The Clarke Griffin I know and love would never be wearing a ratty shirt on a Friday night, for Christ’s sake you are even using your glasses. Are you even wearing pants? You are worse than I thought, girl.”

Clarke chuckled again, picking up her laptop and moving towards the couch so that she could get comfortable. She had a feeling the call wouldn’t be exactly a short one, and she didn’t want it to be. She had missed Wells.

“I reckon you talked to Octavia.”

“Of course I did, she is worried about you not picking her calls.”

“I just don’t want her to feel like she has to take sides, you know? I did slap her  _ brother.” _

_ “You slapped him?” _

_ “ _ Not my finest moment, I admit.”

“Nor his, as far as I know.” Clarke shrugged, and Wells leaned back on his desk chair. “This place sucks without you, by the way. You remember how we used to complain about it being so small and all of that?”

“We were just being rich brats,” Clarke said with a laugh, trying to focus on the good memories. “And that’s considering we had spent the last year in campus residences.”

“We were too proud to ask our parents for money though.” He laughed too. “But that wasn’t my point. My point was that now it is just so  _ big.  _ You took up more space than I originally thought.”

_ “ _ So move in with me again, I have a spare room and everything. And the Chinese delivery is very efficient in here.”

Wells shook his head fondly, laughing quietly. “I might take you up on the offer when this campaign is over. For now I’ll content myself with visiting you. How’s three weeks from now?”

“I can’t wait, Jaha.” Clarke pulled her hair up in a ponytail. “I’ll have my assistant call yours.”

“Are you still going to be a depressed mess when I stop by?”

“Ouch,” Clarke winced. “Too soon.”

“O told me it was a week ago. It usually doesn’t take you this long to get over the rocks they throw at you.”

“It’s different when a friend is the one throwing the rock, Wells.”

He sighed. “Has he called, or stopped by or anything?”

“Radio silence,” she muttered, her eyes shifting to her phone but it didn’t ring. “You know what the worst part is? That he judged me for all the wrong reasons, he accused me of being a slut or whatever. And he told me that I hadn’t been good enough to make Finn stay with me.”

“He  _ what?”  _ Wells straightened up on his seat. Clarke swallowed, feeling how her chest tightened. 

“But he is wrong. And I can’t blame him, he probably only knows what Octavia told him.”

Wells’ face disappeared behind his hands, he rubbed his temples for a moment before looking at her. Even when they were miles away from each other and were staring into a camera, Clarke could definitely feel as if he was right in front of her. His familiar eyes burning into hers. 

“You have to tell her the truth, Clarke. She is your best friend.”

“Finn was her friend too.”

“Which is why you have to tell her. You told me, and he was my friend too. My  _ best friend _ . Christ, we all grew up together. ”

“We lived together, Wells. It would have been hard to hide it from you.”

The pain in his eyes was unmistakable, even when she was just watching him through a screen. “So you wouldn’t have told me if I hadn’t been your roommate?”

Clarke sighed, pulling her knees closer to her chest. “Probably not.”

“I’m not going to pretend like that didn’t sting.”

“I know it did, Wells. But you have to understand… it’s not an easy thing to say out loud. Even to your best friends.” He nodded, and Clarke made a poor attempt of a smile. “I’m not wearing any pants, by the way.”

Wells laughed, and she knew that he was still hurt but that he understood. He always did. “I figured.”

* * *

An hour and a half later Clarke closed her laptop. Somewhere along the conversation the sun had set and the screen had become the only light in the room, she rubbed her eyes in the darkness and laid back on her couch, closing her eyes. The conversation with Wells had helped her put her thoughts back in order, but she didn’t feel collected enough to stand up and turn on the lights. She knew there was no way she would be able to focus back on her work, so there was no point in trying.

She didn’t realize she had fallen asleep until someone knocked on her door. She jolted awake, blinking in the darkness as she tried to figure out what was going on. The knocking started again and she stood from the couch. “Coming!”

There were two more knocks on the door before it was silent. Clarke rushed to her bedroom, grabbing the skirt she had been wearing earlier in the day and tucking in her ratty t-shirt. It might have been midnight, but she did not open her door half naked. It was a matter of principles. 

She forgot completely about looking through the peephole though, so she was completely unprepared when she opened the door to Bellamy Blake. His long curls were pushed back, probably because he kept running his hand through them, and his eyes were pained. He seemed so broken that Clarke couldn’t think about the last time she had seen him, she could only fear the worst.  

“Is Octavia––”

“She’s fine,” he cut her off quickly, swallowing. There was an awkward pause before his words came pouring out, he spoke quickly, as if he was trying to say it all before he changed his mind. “I’m sorry. For interrupting you, for showing up unannounced, for walking away that day, for saying all of those things, for lying to you.”

Clarke couldn’t find anything to say, so she quietly stepped backwards, inviting  him into the apartment. He didn’t move. 

“When did you lie to me?” She asked finally, her hand gripping the doorknob.

“The phone… I was jealous, Clarke. And not because you were moving on from Finn and I wasn’t moving on from Gina, I wasn’t angry because you were going out on dates but because you weren’t going out with  _ me _ . Every time I heard you were going out with someone new, every story Octavia told me about the guy in the bar you had hooked up with, about the girl she had found sneaking out of your bedroom… it broke me. But I couldn’t admit that to you. And when you asked me if Gina was right, if I was having second thoughts about her because of you I lied, I lied to your face Clarke.”

“What are you trying to say?” Her voice was hoarse, as if there was not enough air in the room.  

Bellamy’s eyes went up and down her body before he closed them, fighting to find the words for a few seconds before they came pouring out again. This time it wasn’t like the previous, like he was speaking before he regretted it. This time he spoke like he couldn’t help it, like he just  _ had  _ to tell her. 

“I have feelings for you. I’ve had them since the first time I saw you when I dropped off Octavia at your place before prom and you were wearing that red dress and your hair was up beautifully. I didn’t know how to handle it, and all those things I said… I didn’t mean them. I was going to come back. I slammed the door but I just… I couldn’t walk away, Clarke. Every single part of me was desperate to open the door and walk back into your room and apologize over and over again until you forgave me. But I couldn’t think of a sole reason why you should forgive me. So I sat there in the hall, tearing off my hair,” He swallowed hard. “And then I heard you cry. You were sobbing and it broke me, Clarke. I wanted to be selfish. I wanted to waltz back inside and hold you, and wipe your tears and kiss you. But I didn’t deserve that, I still don’t. I just can’t be selfless anymore, Princess. I want you”

_ I want you.  _ For the first time in days a different set of words rattled inside her head, and before she knew what was happening Bellamy was taking the steps that separated him from her and kissing her. 

The first time his lips slammed against hers he pulled away instantly, his face less than an inch away from her but leaving enough space for her to reject him if she wanted to. But she didn’t want to. Instead she stood on her tiptoes, her hands sinking in his hair as she pulled him against her, kissing him furiously.

This time there was no hesitation, no alcohol tainted breaths, no rushed confessions. None of them pulled away, but they both held onto each other as if they were afraid to let go. Clarke’s hand tightened around his white t-shirt and half moaned against his mouth. The kiss deepened quickly, and when they finally pulled away from each other they were both speechless, her red lipstick smeared through his mouth. 

Clarke laughed, wiping it clean with her hand gently. Bellamy kissed her wrist. 

“I want you too, Blake.”

His eyes sparkled with joy before pulling her close to him again. This time he didn’t kiss her, but he held her against his chest, his strong arms closing around her and giving her exactly what she had been missing since he left. 

“Does that mean you forgive me?”

“I forgive you,” she said after a heartbeat. 

The apartment door was closed with a slam and Clarke fumbled with his shirt as they made their way to her bedroom, but he froze on the doorway as if he had hit an invisible wall. She could almost see it reflected in Bellamy’s eyes, the painful reminder of their last conversation, the echo of the slap across his face, the words he had thrown at her like daggers.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, walking back to him and pressing him against the wall in the corridor. Her hand stroked the side of his face, her thumb grazing over his freckles. “I’ll call in sick tomorrow, I only work half day anyway. My parents have a cabin in the woods near Athens... let’s get out of here.”

It was too tempting of an offer to say no. How could he say no to a place with a completely blank slate? Where he had never insulted her, broken her heart?

“Thank goodness I brought the car.”

 

Clarke stuffed a few clothes and toiletries in her bag before meeting him back on the living room. 

“You forgot this last time,” she said, handing him his jacket. Bellamy gave her a sad smile and grabbed the jacket, gently wrapping it around her shoulders and taking her bag from her hands. 

“It’s a cold night.”

Clarke stood on her tiptoes, kissing him in an attempt to erase the sadness from his smile. It worked. 

“I can’t believe we are doing this,” he mumbled against her lips.

“A spontaneous escapade never goes out of style I guess,” she chuckled.

* * *

 

He was overreacting, but Bellamy still insisted on turning off the headlights as they drove on his street. As he collected his clothes Clarke walked to the 24-hours store across the street. She made sure to buy enough sugary snacks for the road and food for the weekend. 

Clarke caught a glimpse of her on one of the windows, her tight little skirt, faded red lipstick that he had complimented earlier and messy hair. His jacket wrapped around her shoulders and the look in her eyes, the one that gave away that she was about to do something really stupid. She should have told him to leave, she shouldn’t have allowed him to apologize. She knew  _ exactly  _ where it was leading, and she listened to him anyway. 

The clock on her phone informed her it was five minutes away from 1 am, Bellamy had disappeared into his apartment ten minutes ago. What could possibly be taking him so long? 

Maybe Octavia was awake, maybe she was talking him out of doing something stupid. Maybe Octavia was on her way downstairs to talk Clarke out of doing said stupid thing. And even if Bellamy came through the store’s door, his determination unwavering, they still had almost two hours and a half on the road ahead of them. 

Long drive, could end in burning flames or paradise. Because Clarke knew that once they reached their destination it wouldn’t matter, not with all that distance in between them and the rest of the world. She wasn’t afraid about spending a weekend away with Bellamy, she was afraid of the quiet right and the empty road. About all the time they would have to think about their choices, all the chances they’d have to turn around and pretend nothing had happened. 

Just as she was about to pay for the food, the door opened and the chilly air creeped inside the store. She tightened his jacket around her and watched a pair of bronzed hands add Kit Kats to the pile of food, and offer his credit card to the cashier.

Clarke looked up to find Bellamy’s face, that James Dean daydream look in his eye was still there. She smiled. Because sure, they’d crash down but she’d do it all over again, she’d come back to him every single time.

“What?” He asked giddily. 

She kissed him as an answer. 

 

Clarke fixed his jacket on her lap and poured the snacks on top of it, choosing the Skittles to start with and handing him one of the Kit Kats. He smiled at her. 

“Hey! Eyes on the road, mister.”

“I’ll try,” he chuckled, returning his eyes to the empty highway in front of them. The city lights were quickly disappearing behind them and Clarke felt more and more compelled to talk about what had happened in her apartment. She knew it was exactly the kind of talk that she should avoid in order to prevent them from thinking through their actions and turn around at the soonest opportunity, but she couldn't shake it.

She dropped the unopened Skittles back on her lap and wrapped her arms around the warm coffee they had bought on a gas station just before leaving the city. 

“I heard Gina stopped by the other day,” she started, her eyes flickering to him just to look at the road as soon as he looked back at her. 

“Yeah, we are at that awkward part in which we have to return each other’s stuff.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, you were right the other day, you know? Things that are meant to stay together don’t fall apart. Gina and I we weren’t meant to last, or a least that is what I tell to myself not to feel guilty.”

“Guilty?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“You obviously can’t keep those wild eyes on the road either,” she chuckled and he laughed with her. “Yeah, I’ve been there too a few times. Thinking about you, I mean.”

Bellamy smiled at the road and Clarke looked down, opening the Skittles to have an excuse to keep her head down for a few seconds. 

“You remember your first night here, when we almost kissed?”

“You know I do.”

“Right.” She could hear the smile on his face, she popped a few candy on her mouth and looked up. “I told her about it, when we were still together. After you and I had coffee on the roof I went by to see her, and she thought that it was the hangover killing me, but it wasn’t. It was the guilt.”

“We didn’t even do anything, Bellamy. There was nothing to be guilty about.”

“I know, it didn’t make sense to me either. But she said something to me when she broke up with me, it all made sense then. Gina said that when I told her about almost kissing you, it didn’t sound like a hungover boyfriend confessing to his girlfriend. That it sounded just like me, in the old days when we had been best friends, telling her about the girl I had met the night before.”

Clarke remained silent, there was nothing that she could think about saying that would improve the situation. So she just sat there, eyes on the road. Bellamy sighed and she placed her hand on top of his, turning it around so their fingers would link together. They fit perfectly. 

“Just take me home.”

* * *

 

The lights were off when they got to her parents’ cabin, he took off his coat before offering to light up the fireplace. She kissed him briefly before walking to the kitchen putting the groceries away quickly before returning to the living room, sitting down on the couch to keep him company as he worked on the fireplace.

After a few minutes the fire lit up the room, and when Bellamy turned around to face her she felt the same tingling on her fingers she had experienced the first time she had seen him in New York. She felt the urge to freeze the moment and draw him, she could almost see the traces on her sketchbook, the hard lines of his jaw, the dramatic shadows the fire casted on his face. 

“What are you thinking of?” He asked quietly, walking towards the couch and kneeling in front of her, Clarke smiled and used a finger to trace the lines of his face, contenting herself with that. 

“You,” she whispered. “You are gorgeous.”

“I believe that is supposed to be my line,” he teased her, but his voice didn’t have his usual effortless sass, it was lower, breathier. 

“We can share,” she suggested leaning in to brush his lips with hers. 

“I’ve never been very good at that,” Bellamy confessed and her lips curled upwards. “But you knew that.”

Bellamy pulled her closer, kissing her properly as his hands fumbled with her shirt, untucking it from her skirt. Clarke smiled against his lips, her fingers sinking on his hair, threading it as she tried to bring him closer, even when there was hardly any space in between them. Bellamy parted her legs open, wrapping them around his waist as they continued to kiss, a small gasp leaving her lips as she felt his hardness against her. 

“I said I wanted you…” Bellamy explained sheepishly, pulling away just slightly. 

Clarke smiled, removing her hands from his hair and pulling her shirt over her head, throwing it behind the couch without much ceremony. “I said I wanted you too.”

Bellamy let his eyes roam her body, swallowing audibly as she tugged on his own shirt. 

“You are fucking gorgeous, Princess.” A soft blush spread on her cheeks and he beamed, dismissing his shirt swiftly before pulling her closer to him. “I like this sharing thing. I could get used to it… with you.” 

Clarke chuckled before kissing him again, her hands trailing up and down his chest as she tried to make a mental image. The form of his muscles, the hard lines of his back, but she was distracted by the way he thrusted his hips against hers. Again she moaned, making him shiver against her. 

“Lean back,” he instructed breathlessly, kissing down her neck as Clarke threw her head backwards, obliging. Bellamy kissed his way down, his hands kneading her large breasts over her black bra until she let out a louder moan. “I want to make it up to you, for everything I put you through.”

Clarke had barely time to register his words, much less tell him there was nothing to make up for, before he was rolling up the tight skirt so that it didn’t obstruct his way anymore.

“Fuck, you are so wet…” he breathed out, his fingers toying with the edges of her panties. “Feel free to stop me if y––”

“Feel free to use your mouth for something other than talking.”

Bellamy chuckled and Clarke smiled down at him, resting her head on the couch as she readied herself. Her breath stopped as he peeled her soaked panties away from her pussy, her hands getting a hold of the couch as if to get ready. But nothing could have possibly prepared her for that. 

His mouth was on her, and her whole body arched up, searching him. His name was on her lips, his hair balled in her fists, his hands roughly keeping her quivery legs spread open and his tongue flicking on her clit expertly. It was nothing like she had experienced before. 

“Fuck!” She screamed, barely minutes later. She came in seconds, trembling against the couch and crying out his name as she climaxed. He cursed against her clit, sending a new wave of shivers down her spine as she began to relax, coming down from her high. 

“Bedroom,” she instructed once she caught her breath, but it was lost once again when he pulled her closer to him again, her wet pussy against his chiseled abs as he picked her up. He made damn sure to rub her with his body as he walked towards the bedroom. So when he finally dropped her on the bed she didn’t waste time before getting him undressed.

The remaining clothes were dismissed and he kissed her deeply as they laid on the gigantic bed together, his hands tugged on the sheets as he entered her and her legs tangled on the blanket as she thrust up her hips to meet his. This time, they came together. Bellamy repeated her name against her neck like a mantra and Clarke sank her fingers in his hair. She kissed him until they were both out of breath, all tangled limbs, stupid smiles and sweaty foreheads. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not very good writing smut, but I hope you enjoyed this extra long chapter!   
> Also, who knew there was an Athens in New York? I sure didn't. Thank you for your comments and kudos! See you next week.


	6. Out of the Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long, I will try to post the next chapter tomorrow or the day after <3  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I'm sorry for the angst.

“You brought a  _ polaroid?”  _ Clarke cackled, grabbing the camera and toying with it. Bellamy’s laughter could be heard from the bathroom. 

When he walked into the room his hair was still damp from the shower, and his pants hung loosely on his hips. He let himself fall on the bed next to her, Clarke snapped a picture of him and waited for the small cardboard square to come out. 

“Number one, why are you going through my stuff?” Clarke giggled in response. “Two, it’s not a polaroid.  _ Polaroid _ is the company, this is just an instant camera. And finally, I thought some parts of this weekend ought to be recorded.”

“And why didn’t you use it in all weekend? It’s almost time to head back, your sister has been calling you every five seconds. If we don’t get your ass back to your apartment soon she is going to murder me.”

“She doesn’t have to know we were here together.”

Clarke scoffed. “And what are you going to tell her? That you took a random escapade to the woods on the weekend I decide not to pick up the phone? I  _ always  _ pick up the phone. I bet you she has already figured we are together, there is no point in lying to your sister.”

Bellamy sighed, letting his head fall on the pillows again. Something told Clarke he was just about to change the subject. 

“Have I complimented your parents’ place already?”

She smirked. “Like a million times.”

“And have I told you we should wait until tonight to head back?”

Clarke rolled her eyes, but she didn’t fight him when he pulled her closer to him, resting her head on his bare chest. “You saw the road, Bellamy. It’s a miracle we made it here alive the first time. We shouldn’t drive at night again.”

“But you love this place,” he protested. “I know you don’t want to leave anymore than I do. And I promise I will drive carefully, you don’t have to worry about it.” Bellamy placed a kiss on the nook of her neck and she knew she was going to be persuaded soon. “Besides, Octavia is going to kill us anyway. It doesn’t matter when we get there, today, tomorrow… next month.”

“We wouldn’t last a month in the woods.”

“You do have a point there,” he conceded, and Clarke could hear the smirk on his voice. “We didn’t bring enough books.”

Clarke chuckled and she took a deep breath, sinking further into the bed. “I do like it here. We used to come here every summer, and my dad would teach me how to fish and we would dance on the living room…” Her smile turned sad and Bellamy tightened his arms around her. “But we haven’t been here in a while, I don’t know why.”

“Are you telling me I’m the first guy you bring here? Or is this the standard Clarke Griffin treatment?” 

Clarke laughed again, and Bellamy relaxed. She was giving in.

“Oh yes, this is where I bring everyone. It’s always the same thing, sugar rush so that we don’t fall asleep on the drive here, and then hot sex on my parents’ couch. Star gazing, wine drinking, skinny dipping in the lake. The usual.”

“I feel wounded,” he mocked and Clarke grinned, turning around in his arms so she could finally face him. “You didn’t take me skinny dipping.”

Clarke pecked his lips. “The day’s still young.”

“Does that mean we are staying?” His eyes sparkled and Clarke couldn’t help but to soften under his spell. She nodded and Bellamy leaned forward so he could kiss her again. 

“Besides, I would hate for you to have brought your  _ polaroid  _ for nothing.”

Bellamy beamed and he rolled them over, pressing her against the mattress as he kissed down her jaw. The way her laughter bubbled against his chest felt heavenly to him.

 

* * *

 

“I have something for you.”

“Is it hot chocolate?” She asked in between chattering teeth. “Or a legally binding contract in which you agree to never make me skinny dip again?”

“A necklace,” he said, dropping another handful of blankets on the couch which Clarke quickly fixed on top of her. Bellamy joined her in the sofa and pulled her closer to him, so that she could lay on top of his chest and he could wrap himself around her in an attempt to warm her up. “Hold your hair.”

Clarke did as she was told, smiling at the light weight of a small pendant. She held it on her palm momentaneously, the tiara pendant sparkled under the dim light of the fireplace and she looked up to catch a glimpse of his eyes. With his necklace hanging from her neck, she knew it would be a car she wouldn’t quite forget. 

“Are you still cold, Princess?”

“Not really,” she murmured, sinking further into his chest. “Which sucks, I don’t want to get cold again walking to the car… Maybe if I take all of these blankets with me.”

“Or we could just stay here…” 

“Bellamy we both have to work tomorrow, it’s already dark out there. We need to go back home. Octavia must be worried sick, and we both know she is not reasonable when she is worried. For all we know she already called my mom.”

“Alright then,” he sighed. “One dance and we go home.”

“Dance?”

“You said your dad and you used to dance in the living room. I’m helpless when it comes to fishing, but I can dance. You said you had missed this place, so I’m not leaving here until you do everything you like to do in here.”

Clarke pretended to think about it. Bellamy read her easily, pressing a kiss to her head before standing up. Clarke missed his warmth immediately, so when he offered her a hand she took it without hesitation. 

“No music?”

“Both our phones are dead… you could sing,” he suggested as he moved the furniture so they could dance. 

“You don’t want me to sing, it’ll scar you forever.”

“I’ll sing then, any requests?”

“Something cheesy,” she smiled, allowing him to place his hands on her hips as she pressed herself against Bellamy. They started to sway silently. “And by cheesy, I mean not cheesy at all.”

“Guns n’ Roses?”

Clarke let out a laugh and Bellamy took it as an encouragement. He rested his head on hers lightly and started singing. He knew his voice was nothing to brag about, but he could carry a tune decently enough and it used to calm Octavia down when she was younger. 

“ _ Mama take this badge from me, I can’t use it anymore. It’s getting dark, too dark to see, I feel I’m knocking on heaven’s door.” _

His voice might have not been particularly mellifluous, but it was filled with emotion. Clarke noticed that, and for a moment –– fleeting, but real nonetheless –– she allowed herself to feel as much as he did. 

_ “Knock knock knocking on heaven’s door.”  _ She tightened her hold on him, and she closed her eyes as the chorus ended softly. Bellamy sang quietly and into her ear, out of every thing they had done in the weekend it seemed to be the most intimate.  _ “Mama put my guns in the ground, I can’t shoot them anymore. The cold black cloud is coming down, feels like knocking on heaven’s door.” _

Clarke mouthed the chorus with him, causing him to smile as he felt her jaw moving along with his. Originally, he had intended to properly dance with her, which was why he had pushed the furniture out of the way, but as the song started to die off he realized that they had barely moved from their original spot. 

_ “Knock knock knocking on heaven’s door,”  _ he whispered into her ear and she took a deep breath, as if she had been the one singing and she was trying to fill her lungs again. As if she was trying to breathe the memory in. 

“I think there’s one more polaroid paper,” Clarke whispered after a while. “We can take one more picture before we head home.”

Bellamy reluctantly let go of her and retrieved the instant camera from the coffee table, the moonlight was dripping lazily inside the cabin, but they were both too lazy to turn on the lights. Or maybe they were scared of how inviting the cabin would be if it was suddenly all lit up again There was no more stalling, and they knew it. 

Bellamy pressed his lips to her temple and snapped the picture, they waited for the image to reveal itself in the small square of paper and kissed when it did. The kiss lingered for a few minutes, but they eventually managed to avoid each other’s eyes for long enough to grab their things and walk out of the cabin. 

Clarke couldn’t shake the picture out of her head. The rest of the world was black and white, but they were in screaming color. 

* * *

 

 

“Are we out of the woods yet?” He asked exasperated, but she knew Bellamy wasn’t exactly waiting for an answer. 

He was not about to say it out loud, but he knew she had been right to suggest they left before dark. There was something ennervating about not being able to see nothing but a few meters of empty highway illuminated by his headlights, and dark menacing trees blurry with heavy rain. At least the last time he had drove the road he had been high on sugar and adrenaline, last time he couldn’t wait to reach his destination. 

Now he couldn’t help but to wonder what his destination was. 

“Can I ask you something?” Bellamy asked after a while. He had tried to make small conversation a few times to keep himself awake, but Clarke had been unusually quiet ever since she suggested they took a last picture of their escapade. 

“Yeah,” she answered. Bellamy wasn’t sure if she was being honest or polite. 

He asked anyway. “Where does this leave us? 

Clarke’s stomach turned. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about that question all weekend. She knew she would have to face it eventually, she knew that what she had done was wrong. That Bellamy was searching for something very different to what she could offer. Clarke knew she should have pulled away before he first kissed her. Before he had hope. 

“Nowhere. As soon as we are out of the woods, when we are in the clear, we’ll leave all of this behind.” Her words surprised her, not because she felt otherwise but because of they way they sounded: impersonal, rehearsed, machine-like.

The car stuttered, and Clarke knew Bellamy had tore his eyes from the road for a second too long. But she didn’t have it in her to say anything about it. 

“What do you mean?” Bellamy spoke as if suddenly there was not enough air in the car, and it felt like that. “You mean you want to act like this never happened?”

“Yes,” she breathed out. She watched his hands tense on the steering wheel. “We both needed this, Bellamy. I know we did. And it was everything I could have ever dreamed of, and more. I don’t regret this weekend, but it’s over. This can’t be anything more than just a weekend.”

“You are telling me you want to be friends with benefits!?” 

“Just friends, nothing more.”

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” 

The car was suddenly going too fast, and Clarke knew she ought to stop and wait to finish the conversation until they were out of the woods. She knew it was dangerous, but she had known that all along. 

“Like we stood a chance,” she murmured. “We are good at being friends, we shouldn’t ruin it.” 

Bellamy’s glare on her was too heavy not to look back at him.

“We’ll never know that if we don’t try.”

“Well, I  _ don’t  _ want to try, Bellamy,” she snapped at him. Her hands were balled into fists and she shot the words like daggers at him “I didn’t realize that having a weekend out with you meant I had to marry you on Monday, alright? My mistake, I should have stopped.”

“You are right, you should have,” he spat. 

"You could have stopped too! Don't act so innocent Bellamy, you could have asked where this was heading instead of waiting until the last moment." Clarke continued to watch him, she knew he was unconsciously pressing harder on the accelerator. And she wanted to save him, she was desperate to save him. But she chose the wrong thing to save him from, instead of asking him to focus on the menacing road, she directed his attention to herself. “Don’t you see? I’m messed up, Bellamy! You said it yourself, I wasn’t good enough for Finn to stay and I am not good enough for you to do it. I’m setting you free! You should be thankful!”

“Well, forgive me if I don’t see it that way.”

“Just–” Clarke let out a puff of air, feeling the familiar sting of tears menacing to fall. “Eyes on the fucking road, Bellamy.”

The moment he chose to turn his eyes back to the road, was the moment another car chose to appear on the highway. It wasn’t even on their way, but Bellamy’s immediate reaction was to slam down his foot. He hit the brakes too soon, missing the curve and before they knew it the car was spinning out of control. 

Clarke slammed her eyes shut, barely acknowledging the arm Bellamy had used to press her against the seat and protect her from the air bag. She closed her eyes and she wished none of that had happened, she wished she had never opened the door or kissed him back, she wished she had never chosen the worst moment to show him how fucked up she was. She wished she had never said all of that to him. 

And then it stopped. The car stopped spinning and the world settled down. The pain arrived moments later, sharp and demanding. She let out a shaky breath and opened her eyes, trying to assess the situation. They were upside down, hanging from the seat belts. There was a dark liquid dripping off Bellamy’s head and he was looking in her direction, tears gleaming on his long eyelashes, the sun was coming up as she looked at him. She wanted to touch him, but her arm didn’t seem to respond. 

“Are we in the clear yet?” He asked quietly. How Clarke was able to hear it above the noise in her head, and the worried voices surrounding the car, she wasn’t quite sure. She nodded, unable to speak and Bellamy closed his eyes. 

“Good.”

 

* * *

 

 

When she woke up the memories hit her strong, one by one. 

_ Are we out of the woods? _

The heated argument, the final pained look he had given her before turning to the road, the way she closed her eyes as the world spinned and spinned and spinned. Bellamy closing his eyes and the unbearable fear that he might never open them again. 

_ Are we in the clear yet?  _

Twenty stitches, a hospital room, her quiet sobbing and Bellamy’s crying heard across the ER paper curtains.

_ Good.  _

Clarke forced herself to sit up on the bed and walked outside of her room once she managed to yank the IV off her hand. She vaguely remembered nurses speaking around her, what she supposed was Bellamy’s room number was imprinted on her memory as she walked aimlessly across the hospital. She knew she had a short time before they figured out she was missing and forced her back into her room. But she had to see him. 

Bellamy looked peaceful in his hospital bed, almost like he was sleeping. The bandage against his dark skin was clean and his right arm was tucked on his chest comfortably, in a cast. She started crying. 

She pulled the chair closer to his bed and sat on it, resting her head on his chest the way she had done it countless times during the weekend. She cried herself to sleep and sank in a restless nightmare, her bruised fingers clutching his clothes as she fought the monsters in her sleep. 

The monsters turned out to be just trees, and somehow that was worse. 


	7. Wildest Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it has taken this long for me to update a new chapter! I just started college and the schedules are crazy, but I promise I will make an effort to publish more often <3 
> 
> Thank you for not giving up on me!!

_This is my fault._ The words rattled in his brain as soon as he opened his eyes.

Every single scene in a movie of a person waking up in a hospital had showed the character looking around, trying to make out some sense of the place they were in. Not Bellamy. He opened his eyes and Clarke was there, there was no need to look around, no other thoughts to cross his mind. Because Clarke was sleeping on his hospital bed, wet tears still hanging on her cheeks and bruises marking her skin. And it was all his fault.

Her hair was messy, and when he reached to brush it off her face he was hit with the memories of the weekend they had just spent together. His hands on her hair, his clothes in her room. He should have known nothing lasts forever, he should have known better than to expect forever from her.

But he hadn’t, he had pushed her. And now she was hurt because of him.

Bellamy took a deep breath and focused his eyes on the ceiling, trying to avoid the vision of the wounded angel sleeping next to him. Even without looking at her, she was there every time he closed his eyes. Red lips and rosy cheeks, her heavy breathing against his chest. Bellamy knew Clarke would always be there when he closed his eyes, even if it was only in his wildest dreams.

“Here she is,” a familiar voice spoke quietly and Bellamy looked up to see Octavia standing on the door. “Nurses has been looking for her everywhere, I knew she’d be with you.”

Bellamy swallowed, feeling the apologies build up in his mouth but Octavia prevented him from speaking by raising her palm.

“I don’t want to hear it, Bell. Not yet. I want Clarke in her own room where I can’t wake her up when I kick your stupid ass.”

He knew he wasn’t supposed to smile, but he did. Octavia looked away before allowing her own lips to curl up.

A couple of male nurses walked into the room and before Bellamy knew what was happening they were taking Clarke away. He tried not to think of her like that, he tried to erase the memory if an unconscious girl being carried away as her bruised body hung limply from a pair of stranger arms. He tried to remember laughing, wearing a nice dress and staring at the sunset.

He couldn’t.

“What the hell happened Bellamy?” She roared once they were left alone, walking towards his bed and sitting on the edge. He claimed one of her hands with his left one, the only one he could use. Octavia let out a relieved breath, causing another wave of guilt to wash over Bellamy. 

“You mean the accident, or the whole thing?”

“The whole damn thing.”

He sighed, holding his sister’s eye for a second before looking away. “I couldn’t take it anymore, you saw how I was. I said horrible things to her, and she didn’t deserve them, so I went to her place to apologize. Before I knew what I was doing I was kissing her.”

“It was about damn time, though.”

“Now you are using the ‘damn’ too freely.” One stern look from his sister was enough for him to know she was not in the mood for jokes. He sighed. “I used to think that way too.”

“Used to?”

“I thought she felt the same way about me.”

“She does!” Octavia protested, letting go of his hand. “I know she does.”

“Well, you don’t know her as good as you think,” Bellamy mumbled, Octavia’s puzzled eyes urged him to continue. Even if it physically hurt to tell the story, he obliged. “We kissed, and we decided to go away for the weekend, so we did. I’m sorry I didn’t text you, or pick up the calls, I was too focused in her. We were both so focused in avoiding you and the rest of the world, so afraid of changing our minds.” He swallowed dryly. “In the end she did change her mind.”

“When? How?”

“On the way back, that’s why we crashed. We were fighting, which I know it’s pretty stupid. But I wasn't thinking straight. She wanted it to be a weekend thing, go back to being friends, act as if it never happened. I was furious, I kept pushing her and then she told me to keep my eyes on the road, I saw a car, I braked too soon. And here we are.”

Octavia stared at him silently, taking a deep breath when he turned around to face her again.

“So now what?”

“I caused this, O. This is _my_ fault. She told me exactly what she wanted and I didn’t want to accept it. It’s my fault she is hurt, it’s my fault the car is busted, it’s my fault we are all here. I’m not going to push her into doing something she doesn’t want to do anymore.”

“So what are you going to do? You are going to mop around like the last time?”

“I’m going to leave.” He didn't know where te solution came from, but it seemed very obvious now that he had said it out loud. Still, the words didn’t seem true, so he said them again. “I’m going to leave.”

“I heard you the first time Bellamy,” Octavia spat. “Where on earth are you going to go?”

“I had a job offer,” he said after a moment of silence. “I hadn’t given it much thought. Sure, it’s a bit more of money but what was the point if I had to get another place in Germany?”

“Germany?!” Octavia sprung out of her seat, her eyes burning. “You get your heart broken and you run to fucking _Germany?”_

“It’s a great opportunity, alright? They are remodeling the Romano-Germanic museum in Cologne, and they need an assistant curator. They reached out to me and I was not going to take it. It’s only a year.”

Octavia sighed, sitting back on the chair and reaching out for her brother’s hand. Bellamy couldn’t remember when it had been the last time she had done that.

“I can’t talk you out of it, can I?”

“You can try.”

“She was _here_ Bellamy. She woke up in a hospital room and she deliberately broke the rules so she could be with you.”

“I know how she feels about me, Octavia. I know she cares, she cares a lot. But that’s just not enough for me, not right now.”

“And me? Are you going to leave _me?”_

Bellamy’s heart broke a little, but he kept his eyes on her. As he looked at his sister in the eye he knew she understood, even if she didn’t want to.

“You could come with me,” he offered quietly, already knowing the answer.

“And leave the best city in the world?” She teased, squeezing his hand.

Bellamy knew what he was doing was not fair. Not fair at all. Once upon a time he had took off and left Octavia, she had been alone the day their mother died. And when O begged him to move back into their old town he had refused to give up his job in the best city of the world. He had done it because it was better for the two of them, because there was no way in which he could find a better job back in the small place where they had grown up. Because their mother was death and Octavia’s future was now on his hands, and because there was no way he could live with himself in that old house knowing he wasn’t there when his mother passed away.

“You could ask Raven to move in,” he suggested.

“I bet _she_ will remember to keep the toilet seat down,” Octavia said after a long pause.

Bellamy smiled and finally met his sister’s eye. With that rather gross comment, she was letting him know she forgave him.

* * *

 

Clarke did not forgive him.

She knew he was gone the second she woke up in her hospital room and Octavia was there. Clarke knew her best friend, and she knew there was no way Octavia would be sitting in her hospital room if Bellamy was still lying in bed. He had probably returned to their place so that he could vent in peace, so that he could hate her at ease.

 _Let’s get out of this town,_ he had said and she had blindly followed. They had taken turns driving out of the city, away from the crowds. She hadn’t allowed herself to think twice about what it meant to him. To be honest, she hadn’t stopped to think about it meant for _her._

 _No one has to know what we do,_ she had whispered over and over again. And to him it might have seemed like she was excited about having a shared secret, a weekend that was only theirs. But she was trying not to think about the future instead. By not telling anyone, by not picking up the phone the dozen times Octavia called before their phones died, she was making sure she wouldn’t have to think about the weekend as soon as it was over.

Like it never happened.

All she had to do now was take a look at her bruised skin to be reminded that not only it had happened, but she was now forced to live with her choices.

“He left a note,” Octavia said quietly.

“Aren’t you mad at me?” Octavia stayed silent, and Clarke managed to sit up awkwardly in her hospital bed. “You _should_ be mad at me, O. I put your brother in the hospital.”

“You both need to stop monopolizing the guilt. It’s both your faults.”

“He thinks it was _his_ fault?”

Octavia’s eyes shifted to an envelope on the bedside table, Clarke’s heart stopped. It didn’t take her long to add two and two together.

“Where the hell is he going?”

O pursed her lips, and Clarke noticed she was balling up her hands. Suddenly it was like she was back in the car, the world spinning out of control.

“Octavia, where did he go?”

Her best friend stood up and grabbed the envelope, setting it gently on Clarke’s lap before squeezing her shoulder.

“I’m sorry Clarke. He just couldn’t take it.”

Even after Octavia left, it took Clarke a long time to finally use her trembling fingers to rip the envelope apart. She skimmed through the letter, knowing she would have time to read it carefully later, but right now the only thing that mattered was that he was okay. He was okay and he was not going anywhere.

Except that wasn’t true. Clarke stopped skimming, and the she read the last paragraph over and over again until she finally understood it.

 

_I am so sorry, Clarke. I should have respected your decision, I should have accepted it when you said you couldn’t give any more. It wasn’t my place to try and take everything away from you. I know this letter is long, depressing and not exactly what you needed but I wanted to apologize before I left. And I couldn’t do it in person, I just can’t bear to look at what I’ve done to you. I can’t bear the thought that I hurt you again._

_So I’m leaving. It’s not forever, and I definitely do not expect you to sit around and wait for me. Not after everything I’ve done._

_I’m taking a job offer in Germany, I got the call a few days ago and I was going to reject it. But now I feel like it’s the best for everyone if I step back for a couple of months. I will be back within a year, and I really hope that we can put everything behind us and be friends like you wanted._

_I want that too, I really do._

_Again, I’m sorry. Please forgive me, Clarke._

_May we meet again._

 

Clarke’s fingers were shaking with a combination of the sobs she was trying to muffle and the anger that was burning in her chest. She didn’t even register the fact that Octavia was sitting outside the room as she marched across the hall and inside Bellamy’s empty room.

She heard her best friend stopping the doctors, and the doctors arguing that Clarke needed to stay in bed. But she didn’t care, she rushed for the old phone sitting on the bedside table. The fingers that usually remembered Bellamy’s number so well messed up a couple times before she managed to get it right.

“Don’t go,” she blurted as he picked up the phone. His side of the line was silent, except she could hear the noisy airport surrounding him. “Please don’t go Bellamy, not like this.”

“Did you change your mind?” He asked after a moment, the hope and pain in his voice were almost palpable. Clarke had to sit down.

“Don’t go.”

“That is not an answer Clarke.”

“I can’t change my mind, Bellamy! I meant what I said in the car, I’m fucked up. And all I do is hurt and hurt and hurt, so it doesn’t matter what you see in hindsight. It doesn’t matter if you can only think of me tangled up with you all night. I’m going to burn that down.”

Clarke listened  to the airport sounds as he thought over her words.

“My flight is boarding.”

“Don’t go, Bell.”

“Say you’ll remember me, Clarke. I know we are just going to be friends, I’m not asking for anything else. This is my one request: say you’ll remember me, this weekend.”

“No.” Her voice was once more cold and automatic, and she stood up straight as she readied herself to speak again. “If you leave then you do not get to ask for anything. You do not get to be remembered, Bellamy. Get on that plane and it’s over.”

“Cla––”

“Forget it,” she spat. “You are not guilt tripping me into doing something I don’t want to do. Just run away, Bellamy. The way you ran away from your old town, how you ran away from your commitment from Gina. You are running away from your sister.”

“Hey don’t y––”

“I don’t love cowards, Bellamy. I forget them really damn easily.” She said as she slammed the phone.

She kept waiting for it to ring, but it didn’t.

When the nurses came to take her to her room she didn’t protest.

 


	8. I Wish You Would

“Exactly when did you plan on telling me you were in a car accident?”

Things had settled down rather quickly after Bellamy left to Europe. Clarke had spent a night in the hospital before she was released, following the doctor’s recommendations Octavia moved in with her for a few days. Clarke didn’t protest, she knew concussions were nothing to mess with.

A week after, not a second later, Octavia was asked to move out and Clarke went back to work. She had lunch with Miller every day, and she excelled at doing her job, quickly making up for the week she had been absent. It was halfway through her second week at work that Wells called her. 

Clarke’s heart sank to her stomach the moment she saw his name in her phone screen. In the middle of the craziness, she had forgotten she had Wells to count with. And the anger, and hurt in his voice did nothing but remind her of how much she had pushed him away. 

“I’m sorry,” she said weakly, walking across her apartment to sit on her couch. She rubbed her face with one of her hands before speaking again, Wells was obviously waiting for her to say something. “Did O tell you?”

“Your mom told me, Clarke.” He said quietly, flatly. She didn’t have to close her eyes to picture his hurt face. “Which reminds me I am very angry at Octavia for not telling me either, but that’s a different story. I had to find out from your  _ mother  _ that you were on a car accident. Does this sound ironic to you? Because it’s usually your mother coming to  _ me  _ for information on your life.”

“How the hell did my mo––” the answer came to her at the same time Wells interrupted her. “The insurance company,” they said at the same time.

“Bingo,” Wells said bitterly. “I would have flown all the way there to see you Clarke. I could have helped. You only had to call me, all you ever need to do is call me.” 

Clarke swallowed audibly, pressing her phone harder against her cheek. 

“I’m very sorry Wells, I honestly didn’t think about telling anyone. I was too focused in getting through one thing at a time.”

“One thing at a time?” Clarke’s throat tightened as she realized she had said too much. Or maybe she had said just enough, Wells just read her too easily. “What is going on?”

She fell silent, she had no idea on what to say to him, where to start. She played with the hem of her skirt for a few minutes, listening to Wells breathe on the other side of the phone. Clarke knew he wouldn’t hang up on her, that he was going to wait until she was ready to talk. So they sat in silence for a few minutes, miles apart from each other and both trying to piece together her complicated life.

Eventually the solution turned out to be easy.

“Is it too late to ask you to come visit me?”

 

Luckily enough, Clarke seemed to have scheduled her breakdown with Wells’ school break. He promised to get on a plane the second his last class ended on Friday, all Clarke had to do was get through the week. That proved to be easier than she had originally thought. 

Once the stressful talk with her parents was taken care of, Clarke proceeded to focus on work again. It was because of this newfound motivation that she actually picked up the phone and called Octavia. The two girls had been communicating via text ever since O had moved back into her apartment, but that was obviously much colder than their usual interactions. 

Whether or not Octavia blamed her for her brother’s sudden escapade to Germany she didn’t know. Clarke hoped she wasn’t angry, but she could fully understand if that was the case. The last words she had barked into the phone still kept her up at night, wishing she hadn’t hung up like she did. And she often wondered if Octavia had overheard them. 

“Clarke? Is everything alright?” O sounded alarmed, she had picked up the phone within seconds, as if she had been waiting for the call. Clarke’s chest tightened as she realized how badly she was treating her best friends. First Wells, now Octavia. 

“Yeah! I’m calling to check in, I have a surprise for you.” She tried to keep her voice cheerful and casual, as if nothing had changed between them. 

“A good surprise?” 

“Well, that’s debatable. This surprise tends to eat half of your French fries even when he claims he doesn’t want any.  _ Every time.”  _

“Wells? What about him?”

“He’s coming to the city, he gets here on Friday.”

Octavia squealed in delight, and soon they were planning every second of their best friend visit. All the pre-existing tensions between the girls disappeared as they organized the days to come. When they hung up the phone Clarke went to bed with a smile on her face for the first time in weeks.

* * *

 

Wells was the same as always, which Clarke appreciated greatly. He stepped into the arrivals gate at the airport, his left hand carrying a duffel bag and his right one clutching his signature Penguin classic. Clarke collided against his strong chest and breathed in his familiar scent. Once upon a time she had shared a house, a life with him. For five years they had been each other’s constant companion, and it wasn’t until that precise moment that Clarke realized how much she had missed him. 

Octavia joined into the embrace after a moment, and everything was alright.

Soon, the moment for cheesiness was over and the three best friends marched out of the airport, taking turns to talk each other’s ears off and laugh.

The girls had carefully planned every single moment of Wells’ visit. He was only going to stay for five days, which seemed like a terribly short time for the trio to make up for all the lost time. The first stop was, of course, Octavia’s crappy apartment. 

“I feel like everyone should start their New York City experience here, it lowers your standards,” Octavia teased before disappearing into the kitchen in search for the Chinese takeout menu. 

Clarke’s eyes wandered to the hallway, wondering what Bellamy’s room looked like behind the closed door. She had been in there a couple of times, before that fateful weekend escapade. The bed seemed almost comically small for his long figure, and even more so because of the piles of books that seemed to tower over it. She tried to imagine it empty, filled with Octavia’s mess of legal paperwork, or even Raven’s undecipherable mathematical squibbles. But she couldn’t. And she honestly doubted Octavia had the heart to store his books in boxes and put them away. 

When she snapped back into reality Wells was looking at her, she swallowed in embarrassment. The boy didn’t say anything, instead he pulled her into a hug and they smiled to Octavia when she walked back into the room waving the takeout menu triumphantly. He was going to stay at Clarke’s apartment, and there would be more than enough time to talk about Bellamy once they were there.  

Chinese food was ordered, and when it arrived they took the bags and made their way upstairs. The sun was starting to set behind the tall buildings, and Wells was speechless at the view. Clarke smiled, remembering her own first impression of the city she now called home. 

The three friends ate their food sitting closely together on the rooftop, their laughter louder and louder as the night progressed. They danced under the stars, they remembered stories of their past and filled in each other with new ones. When Raven texted Octavia letting her know she was home they went back into the apartment to introduce her to the missing part of their puzzle. 

It was near one in the morning when Clarke stopped to think about the situation. They were all sprawled on the couches, empty wine bottles in the coffee table as they took turns making each other laugh. Raven’s head was lazily on Octavia’s lap, and she was sharing the other couch with Wells the way they had done countless times. She knew she didn’t have to say it out loud for her other two friends to understand. 

They had lost Finn, and his gap would never be completely filled again. He was brave, impulsive, funny and loyal, and they had all loved him fiercely. He was irreplaceable, but he was gone. And Raven was here. 

That night felt like a continuation of their old friendship, but also like a new beginning. Tacitly but definitely the group welcomed Raven in, and when they all hugged goodbye at dawn it was sealed forever. 

 

Clarke wasn’t sure at what time they had gotten to her apartment, but she had vague memories of fumbling with her keys and collapsing into her bed next to Wells. It wasn’t the first time they shared a bed, and she had enjoyed the warmth of his body beside her as she drifted off to sleep. 

All of her fondness towards her best friend disappeared when he poked her next morning. “Wake up, Griffin,” he demanded, eliciting a frustrated moan from her as she tightened her closed eyes. 

Octavia and Raven had a previous commitment that day, and they hadn’t been able to cancel it, so Clarke was supposed to give him a tour around “nerd New York”, as Octavia had cleverly put it. And of course, the early bird was showered and ready to go, not wanting to miss a single New York minute. 

It had taken two cups of coffee for Clarke to agree to shower and go out into the world, but as soon as they were out on the streets she was back to her usual self. The two friends walked to the subway, and she pointed out the landmarks as they went. Wells patted the lions outside of the Public Library, and Clarke showed him the new exhibit she had helped Lincoln with. They had lunch before entering Central Park, wandering its paths for hours before it was time for dinner. 

Clarke knew Wells was waiting for her to bring up Bellamy, but she didn’t, not even when they walked past the Museum of Natural History. 

The next day Octavia and Raven met them for brunch and then the four of them walked across the Brooklyn Bridge, something Clarke had not yet done either. They ended the night back at her apartment, where Wells insisted in cooking dinner for them and they had willingly accepted. The boy had been gifted culinary-wise, and Clarke felt like she was about to cry when the home-cooked flavour exploded in her mouth. 

Since Clarke had to work the following day, Octavia agreed to meet them for breakfast before taking Wells with her. Goodness knew what the girl had in mind, Octavia was probably going to drag him into a peaceful protest, or chain him to a particularly old tree she felt the need to protect. 

 

“Bellamy called Octavia today,” Wells said softly on the eve of this departure. Clarke knew it was coming, after all she had asked him to come see her after the mess she had walked into. And he still didn’t know the full story. “I am not sure, but I think he asked for you.”

Clarke’s head jerked, her cheeks reddening as she realized how she reacted. “Why?”

“Well, O was just talking about me and about how nice it was to have the gang back together. And then he said something on the phone, and her smile fell a little. She said ‘she is fine, happy to see Wells’. I doubt she was talking about Raven.”

Clarke pursed her lips together, forcing her breathing to remain even. 

“I’m leaving tomorrow Clarke. And I wish I could be dramatic and pretend I’m going to be stubborn and stay here until you tell me what’s wrong, but I can’t do that. So you’ll have to spill tonight.”

And so, Clarke told him. Words came slowly, tentatively. She recounted the moment when Bellamy had bluntly apologized, and how she had recklessly suggested to get out of the town. Suddenly it was two a.m and she could remember exactly what it felt like to be driving in Bellamy’s car, windows down, her hair loose. She wondered what Bellamy would do if he was driving towards her apartment, he would probably pass her street, drive straight ahead, say it was all in the past. 

“I know I fucked up, I shouldn’t have kissed him. I should have accepted his apology, but made it clear that we could never be more than friends. I should have told him I was fucked up.”

“You are not fucked up, Clarke,” Wells protested but Clarke quieted him down with a sad look. 

“I am not over Finn, and I keep pretending I am but I am not. And I don’t mean I want him back, I know that is not going to happen. Hell, I wouldn’t want it to happen. But I was with him for so long that I forgot how to  _ not  _ be with him, and that scared me.  _ Scares  _ me, present tense. That is why I pushed you away, why I pushed Octavia away too. I don’t want to feel that way again.”

“You know O and I are not going anywhere, Clarke.”

“Once upon a time I thought the same thing about Finn,” she said flatly, wiping away her tears furiously. “And I know it hurts to hear it like that but it’s true. I  _ know  _ you are not going anywhere, Wells. But that doesn’t change the fact that I wouldn’t be completely destroyed if you did. And I guess that I let my guard down with Bellamy for a moment, and when it downed on me I panicked, and that’s when we crashed.”

Wells sighed, pulling her into a hug after it became clear that she was done talking. Clarke buried her face into his shirt and cried in silence for a while. She knew that she was overreacting, that Bellamy was just someone she had met a few months ago and had shared a single weekend with. But she was also aware that she was mostly scared about never going back to normal again. About never being able to say ‘yes’ to a future with anyone. 

Maybe Finn had taken that away from her forever. 

_ Say you’ll remember me,  _ Bellamy had begged her and she had denied him that. Now she wished she could erase those words from the record and let him know that she would remember him, that weekend, for as long as she lived. Even when she was convinced that it was better to leave it in the past. 

“I just wish he’d come back,” she whispered after a while. “And that everything was the way it was before. When we would have lunch together and go to museums and just be  _ friends _ , I wish I hadn’t hung up the phone like I did. I wish he was right here, right now, all good.”

“I know,” Wells said, and, strangely, that was enough. 

Shortly before going to sleep, with Wells’ soft breathing next to her, Clarke closed her eyes and vowed to never push him away again. She had made the mistake to keep things from him and Octavia before, and she knew it was just a matter of time before things exploded the way they had with Bellamy. 

She knew it was a selfish vow, but as long as she kept it at least she knew she wouldn’t be irreparably broken. 

 

Teary goodbyes were exchanged, and Wells parted with a smile on his face as Clarke and Octavia waved enthusiastically. The two girls stopped for coffee and gave each other a brief hug before parting ways. Clarke had asked Lincoln if she could arrive a little late to the museum, and Octavia had an old building to save somewhere downtown. They promised to call each other to make plans, and this time Clarke kept her part of the deal.

* * *

 

It was a few weeks later that Clarke finally dared to ask, as casually as she could, how Bellamy was doing. They were hanging out in the crappy apartment, each girl minding on their own business while making small chat once in a while. Hearing her brother’s name Octavia had been thunderstruck, and it had been Raven who quickly started telling a story of Bellamy learning that  _ Waschlappen _ is apparently an insult in Germany, and that it translated to “washing cloth”. 

So it became a thing: Clarke would ask and Raven would give her a funny anecdote, enough for her to know that he was doing alright. Clarke almost didn’t care about the way Octavia studied her whenever they talked about Bellamy. Almost.

“He thinks you hate him now,” Octavia said quietly one night, weeks after. She knew she was getting into a dangerous territory, bringing up her brother when Clarke hadn’t asked. But she had to say it, Bellamy had called earlier in the day, and he had sounded particularly brokenhearted when he asked how Clarke was doing. 

“Well, then he doesn’t know me very well,” Clarke shrugged, her words leaving her lips between gritted teeth. Raven sighed, grabbing the dirty plates and standing up from the table feeling the storm was about to start. Clarke looked up to follow her friend with her eyes longingly, she wished she could be left off the hook that easily. 

“How is he?” She finally asked, returning her eyes to O.

“Miserable,” Octavia replied without missing a beat. 

“Remind me to ask Raven next time,” Clarke grumbled, rolling her eyes. “You are always so pessimistic.”

“He thinks you  _ hate  _ him, Clarke.”

“If I hated him I wouldn’t care about his well being, I wouldn’t be asking about  how he is doing every week.” She was practically barking the words, and she knew it. She wished Octavia could read her mind, that she could tell she missed him too much to be mad anymore. That she could pick up the phone, call her brother and tell her that no, Clarke  _ didn’t  _ hate him, that she  _ couldn’t  _ hate him.

“Well, he doesn’t know that.”

“Then tell him, Octavia. You don’t have to keep me as a secret, you know?  You don’t have to tiptoe around the subject with me.”

That was enough to enrage Octavia, her eyes flaring. 

“That’s bulshit, Clarke. All you  _ ever  _ do is tiptoe around every single subject. It’s because of that that my brother abandoned the city, the job, the sister and the girl he loved to mope all the way across the world. So don’t you dare make this my fault.”

Clarke had slammed the door on the way out, but she knew Octavia was right.

* * *

 

Not speaking to Octavia was unbearable. Suddenly it felt as if there was simply not enough air for Clarke to breathe in the city. Her hand burned whenever she held her phone, her finger hovering on top of her best friend’s name, too afraid to make the call. 

Luckily, the feeling seemed to go both ways. So when Octavia showed up at her apartment without warning a few days later, Clarke felt her eyes prickle with tears.

“Can we please not be mad at each other anymore? Because Raven just asked me to marry her, and I just got engaged and I really need my best friend right now.” 

Clarke screamed with joy and she held Octavia close, the two girls crying and giggling and embracing. They quickly fell out of their argument, and they sat closely in the expensive couch Clarke’s mother had picked out, admiring the ring Raven had designed herself. They talked about the proposal itself, about the wedding, the reception, the honeymoon. They called Wells and shared the news with him, causing a new fit of laughter to bubble in both their chests. 

She was elated. Her best friend was getting married. And it wasn’t until hours after Octavia left that she realized what that meant: Bellamy would be coming back soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! I am so sorry it has been this long without a new chapter!! I will try to post every Monday from now on <3 Thank you so much for all of your support!!


	9. Bad Blood

Clarke smoothed Raven’s dress one last time, hoping that her friend wouldn’t notice  the slight trembling of her fingers. Monty sat on the edge of the bed, watching Clarke fix the green wedding dress. Clarke tried to focus on the fact that New York City wasn’t that big of a city anyway, in the end it had turned out that Raven’s best friend was none other but Miller’s boyfriend, the Monty she had heard so much about during all of their lunch breaks. 

“Are you sure you are okay?” Raven asked for the millionth time. 

Clarke did her best to swallow the knot in her throat.  _ Leave it to Raven Reyes to spend her own wedding day worrying about my stupid drama,  _ she thought before looking at her own reflection in the mirror. 

“I’m fine,” she stated with rehearsed ease. At some point in the months following Octavia’s engagement Clarke had turned into a very good liar, sometimes she even believed herself when she claimed she would be fine when it was time to see him again. 

“I can’t believe you’ll have to––”

“Raven, stop,” Clarke urged her, causing Raven to turn around and face her. “It’s your wedding day, I don’t want you worrying about anything okay? It is all going to be fine.”

Before Raven had a chance to reply there was a knock in the door, and Clarke felt herself tense up. She’d recognize that knocking anywhere, after all, it had knocked her off her feet once. 

Monty opened the door to reveal Bellamy, and Clarke did all she could to keep a straight face as she took him in. Her facial features remained unreadable, but her hand clenched behind her back. He had returned to the city a few days before the wedding, but she had carefully choreographed her maid of honor duties to avoid him. It was the first time they had seen each other since the hospital. 

“We are waiting for you Clarke,” he announced, the discomfort tainting his grave voice. His curls were slightly longer, but perfectly combed. He looked more handsome than ever in his dark tuxedo, yet somehow Clarke managed to keep herself together. 

“You need anything else?” She asked turning to Raven who shook her head gently. 

“I think I got it from here, Clarke,” Monty said, stepping away from the door. Clarke gave him a nod and walked towards the door that Bellamy was still holding open, shivering when she brushed past him as she stepped outside. 

Lucky for her the awkward walk to the lobby was quite short. Octavia had found a gorgeous old country house on the outskirts of the state, and she managed to rent it for the garden wedding. As soon as they reached the lobby Clarke walked as far from Bellamy as she could, linking her arm firmly to Wells’. Once she had her best friend close it was easier to look at Bellamy, not that she was intentionally trying to lock eyes with him

“Is she ready?” Octavia asked her, pretending to remain oblivious to the tension between her best friend and brother. 

“Yeah,” Clarke confirmed, grateful for the distraction. “And Monty knows what he is doing, so we should be good to go.”

Octavia nodded once before turning to her brother, gesturing to the window. Bellamy quickly walked there, tapping the glass to let the quartet know they were ready to start the ceremony. 

“Don’t fall down,” Clarke teased her best friend, making her laugh. Octavia looked gorgeous in her golden dress, and as she laughed she seemed to get rid of all of her nerves. 

“You heard that big bro? Don’t let me screw up.”

“Don’t worry,” Bellamy said, walking back to them as the music started. His eyes brushed Clarke’s slightly, but the blonde looked away immediately. “I’ve got you.”

Before anyone had a chance to comment on the tension that had rose in the room the music started, and Octavia quickly started walking towards her spot, dragging Bellamy with her. 

“Are you sure you are okay?” Wells whispered as they approached the door, earning him one of Clarke’s infamous glares. “Well, you better be okay. Octavia will murder you if you cause a scene.”

“It’s good to know I can count on you,” Clarke hissed. 

Wells beamed, opening the double doors and revealing the garden party. 

“Always,” he announced proudly, making an honest smile spread in Clarke’s face as they walked outside. 

 

Octavia and Raven had planned their wedding carefully, and everything worked according to the plan. The couple had made sure to make their union as unconventional as they were, starting by the ceremony itself. To avoid falling into traditional gender roles they had walked down the aisle at the same time, meeting each other at the middle where Wells and Clarke took their bouquets. Their vows were exchanged and they took turns drawing each other’s initials on their wrists. They had both decided rings were too easily lost, and they planned on getting their initials tattooed the next day as an official beginning for their honeymoon. 

The ceremony quickly turned into the reception, and once Clarke had downed two glasses of wine she was able to stop jumping every time she realized Bellamy’s eyes were on her. Instead, she focused on greeting the friends she hadn't seen in years, and simply enjoying being around Wells again. With the happy buzz of alcohol in her system she was even capable of smiling politely and clap as he stood up to deliver his speech. 

Bellamy’s speech brought tears to many of the guests’ eyes, with his heartfelt memories of a much younger Octavia, and bringing up the fact that their mother would have loved to be there. By the end, Clarke could feel her own throat tightening up.

“Now, O, I know I promised I would never let anything bad happen to you. This oath puts me in the awkward position of threatening Raven in case she ever hurts you,” Bellamy said with a chuckle. “Not only do I know Raven could never do anything to hurt you, but I am also convinced that she could take me out in a fight any day.” The crowd roared with laughter, so Bellamy raised his glass. “So I have no other option but to wish you two a long, happy life together. For my own sake, of course.”

Clarke knew she had a lot to live up to, she clapped with her eyes fixed to the mantelpiece, as Octavia stood up to hug her brother. Soon after, her head jerked up when she heard her name echo through the speakers. Suddenly she found herself wishing she had sneaked a sip from her drink before all eyes were on her.

She stood from her seat and smiled at the guests, wondering if they could see the small waves in her champagne flute caused by the slight tremble of her hand.

“The first time I saw Octavia Blake was the day she punched a boy in the face for me,” Clarke began, smiling nervously when a few chuckles were heard throughout the party. “To be perfectly honest I can’t remember what he had said, but Octavia stood up for me, and she has done so every day after that. I have been very lucky to have you as my best friend, even more now that you have brought Raven into our lives and we never have to worry about car maintenance again.”

Raven snorted and Clarke beamed, the two brides were happy, so naturally she would be okay. How could she not be okay when she had just witnessed her best friend marry the love of her life? Once she realized that the rest of the speech came easy to her. 

“I will always be proud of your strength and passion, Octavia. How you put all of your energies to save buildings people ignore every single day, how you are dedicated to save a world that doesn’t always deserve being saved. But mostly I am proud of how fiercely you two love each other. Goodness knows that it takes courage to give oneself completely to another person, and I couldn’t be happier you two found the perfect person to spend your crazy lives with. I love you girls.”

As the party raised their glasses in unison and cheered for the newlyweds Clarke felt Bellamy’s eyes on her again, and this time she wasn’t able to look away fast enough. Despite the distance between them she could read his eyes easily. 

_ I don’t know,  _ she wanted to tell him in reply to the question that burned in his pupils.  _ I wish I was as brave as Octavia and Raven, as brave as you are. But I’m not and I don’t know why,  _ she wanted to say. But instead she did the only other thing she could think of and she emptied her glass in a single gulp.

* * *

 

“Are you having fun?” Bellamy asked politely as soon as they started dancing. The two of them were carefully avoiding each other’s eyes, and his hand on her waist was nothing but a faint presence, nothing like the determined touches they had shared on that fateful weekend. 

“I am, it’s a great party,” Clarke replied just as civilly as they swayed across the dance floor gently. 

Clarke hadn’t protested when Octavia suggested that she’d dance with Bellamy at the wedding. Both the brides had insisted that she didn’t have to do it, but Clarke shrugged and gave them the best fake smile she had, the first of many. She was the maid of honor, and Bellamy was the best man. They had to dance together, not discuss their feelings. She had it under control. 

Except she didn’t expect to be drunk when it happened. 

“Are you?” She asked once she thought the silence had stretched for too long. Her hand was delicately placed on his shoulder, too far from the curls she had been dying to touch for the last couple months. 

“I am, as long as I try and stay away from the family,” he chuckled. Clarke almost smiled back. She almost thought they could make it through the evening without jumping at each other’s throats. Almost. “Apparently I have failed as a man since my baby sister got married first. If I have to answer questions about Gina one more time I think I’m going to––”

Clarke never knew what had given away her discomfort. Maybe it was the way her hand tightened in the fabric of his tuxedo, or the look in her eyes, or the fastening of her heartbeat. Most probably it had been a combination of all three, along with the dagger-like words that exited her mouth. 

“Did you have to ruin it, Bellamy?”

“What do you mean?” 

Her blood boiled in her veins as they continued to dance. “Why would you bring that up? We were having civil small chat, and you had to hit me where I’m weak.”

“Excuse me,” he said defensively, hissing at her. “I didn’t realize we were not talking about it.”

“Now we have problems, Bellamy. And I honestly don’t think we can solve them, so we might as well pretend not to know each other,” she hissed back. 

“ _ You  _ are mad at me,” he burst out, the shock obvious in his face as they both missed a step in their awkward waltz. “I can’t believe you have the fucking nerve to be mad at me after what  _ you  _ did.”

Before Clarke had a chance to bark back Wells materialized out of nowhere, giving them both a smile so perfect no one would have questioned. “You mind if I interrupt?” He asked, gesturing to Bellamy’s hand in Clarke’s waist. 

The freckled man practically shoved her into Wells’ arms, he stepped away from her as if she was carrying the plague. “Not at all,” he snapped, walking away from the dance floor and snatching a drink from one of the tables as he made his way into the crowd. 

“I thought you said you’d behave,” Wells scolded her gently as they started to dance. Clarke sighed, wrapping her arms around Wells’ shoulders and moving with him easily. The two friends danced effortlessly until the song died out before Clarke gave him a smile and stepped out of the dance floor in search for a refill.

* * *

“You are wasted,” Wells chuckled, rolling his eyes at Clarke.

Clarke, in turn, pouted. “I’m not drunk,  _ you  _ are drunk.”

“Clever, Griffin. Real clever,” he said with an amused smile. “Come on, the party is ending soon anyway, let’s put you in bed.”

Once more, Clarke was suddenly too aware of Bellamy’s eyes on her, even when she couldn’t exactly tell where he was sitting in the dark. 

“I don’t want to go to bed, I want to dance,” she protested. 

“Alright then,” Wells conceded. She knew her too well to argue, and he had to admit that Clarke Griffin could hold her liquor fairly well. “Let’s dance,” he offered, reaching out for her hand. 

“Not with you, I want to dance with  _ her,”  _ she motioned to one of the guest tables. In it a beautiful girl with dark hair was laughing with the rest of her friends. Clarke knew she had seen her around in Raven’s parties, but she couldn’t remember her name. All she knew was that the girl was gorgeous. And that she was desperate for a distraction. 

Wells gave her a wicked smile, ready to tease her about it forever in case the situation went sour.  He motioned towards the mystery girl and beamed. “By all means, be my guest.”

Now that a challenge was involved, Clarke stood from her seat and made her way proudly to the girl’s table. She was happy she had dismissed her high heels a long time ago, and she made a triumphal arrival without bumping into any chairs. 

Soon she learned the girl’s name was Lexa, and she also wanted to dance. Fuelled by the weight of Bellamy’s eyes on her she pulled the stranger closer, waving her hips at the rhythm of the music. 

Raven and Octavia had just left so that they could catch their train to New York. The two were about to take a two weeks off work to roadtrip all the way to Florida as a honeymoon. So when Clarke’s dance became less inhibited and Lexa responded, by pulling her closer, she knew there was no one but Wells to hold her accountable for her actions. 

In the worst moment possible, Lexa’s phone went off.  Clarke had easily reverted to the way she had been all those months ago, when she had easily turned off her better judgement and went home with a different person every night. She was ready to walk out of the party and take Lexa with her. After all, she was in charge of cleaning up after the wedding, and it would be a waste if the beautiful rooms in the rental house went to waste.

“I’ll be back,” Lexa whispered in her ear as she stepped outside of the loud party to answer the phone.

Clarke smiled and made a beeline to the bar, but a tall figure stopped her before she could get her refill. 

“You need to stop,” Bellamy roared. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were the guardian of the  _ open  _ bar,” she grumbled, trying to walk past him. 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Then  _ what  _ did you mean, Bellamy? Come on, spit it out. I don't have time to waste, Lexa is going to be back soon.”

“You just love to rub it in, don’t you?” He hissed, Clarke smiled. “Salt in the wound, you are laughing right at me.”

“Bummer, I’m sorry you are having a hard time buddy, now if you excuse me...”

Clarke turned on her heels, but she had obviously overestimated her balance, and she found herself stumbling into Bellamy’s arms, which were ready to catch her, as always. Bellamy’s eyes were furious as he half dragged her inside the house, away from the noisy party, away from Lexa. 

“What the hell is your problem?! Get your hands off me!” She protested as soon as the door closed behind them. The summer air had been hot enough outside, inside the house it was simply unbearable. And it definitely didn’t help that Clarke could feel the bad blood that their relationship had caused burning through her veins. 

“ _ My  _ problem? I still have scars on my back from your knife, Clarke. I never thought you’d be like this, this is just… childish.”

Bellamy’s voice was slurred too, but deep inside she knew he was right. She was acting like a middle schooler, she had gone out of her way at her best friend’s wedding to make him jealous. To hurt him. 

But it had worked. Despite her childish behavior he had responded, and he was standing in front of her, the pain obvious in his eyes. 

Her breathing was still heavy as they stood in the hallway, glaring at each other. The million comebacks she had thought about shooting at him for the past months escaped her mind completely, and the only thing that was left was instict. 

Lucky for her, his judgement too was clouded.

Clarke lost track of every thought that had crossed her head before Bellamy’s lips crashed against hers. She returned the kiss eagerly, enjoying the familiar sensation of his strong arms being wrapped tightly around her body, pulling her closer if that was even possible. The hallway wall trembled slightly as she was pressed against it, and at some point Clarke had to pull away to catch her breath. Bellamy on the other hand didn’t seem to need any air. 

His lips traced the same path they had discovered that day in the cabin in the woods. Clarke whimpered as he breathed heavily against her neck, on the exposed skin of her shoulder. And then he stopped. 

“You know I’m leaving tomorrow, right?” he breathed out, his pupils dilated and his hair messier than usual. “I have to go back to work on Monday.”

It felt as if they had crashed all over again. The world turned around one, two, three times and Clarke felt her heart shatter. But she kissed him again, because god damn it she had missed him, and kissing him was much better than crying over him. 

None of them knew how it happened, but they managed to get the door of her bedroom opened and they collapsed into the bed before the door slammed shut. Clarke knew bandaids didn’t fit bullet holes, but as Bellamy started undressing her she felt like it was worth giving it a try. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait and the short chapter! I hope you enjoy it!!


	10. All You Had To Do Was Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! Summer is officially here so I will be trying to post often! This is a very short chapter, so expect another one tomorrow. Thank you for all your support!!

When Clarke woke up she knew he was gone before she even opened her eyes. Because of that, she chose to keep them closed. In the warm bed –– the soft sheets clinging to her naked body, his faint scent still on the pillows next to her, the memories still replaying in her head –– it was easy to pretend everything was okay. 

So she rolled onto his side of the bed, trying to breathe in what was left of his scent. In her drowsiness she could almost imagine being back at the cabin in the woods before it all went to shit. Bellamy would walk out of the bathroom any minute, and he would scoff at her. “Stealing my pillow, princess?” And then it wouldn’t matter if he reclaimed his side of the bed, because she would lay her head on his bare chest and that would be the best pillow in the world. 

Clarke opened her eyes and blinked away her fantasies only to find herself in an unfamiliar room. And in the foreign chair, waiting for her to notice it on her way out, was his sweater. She could almost hear his apology, his peace offering behind a simple, implicit, “it’s cold outside”. As Clarke folded it into her suitcase, right on top of the clothes that he had tore off her body the night before, she could hear Bellamy’s voice protesting about her walking outside without enough layers on. 

After giving the room one last look she tied her messy curls into a ponytail and made her way outside of the room. As part of the contract for the rental house she had to make sure everything was clean and in order before handing the keys back to the owner. She had offered to do it so that Octavia and Raven could leave on their honeymoon, but back then she hadn’t expected to wake up with an emotional hangover. 

She tried to clear her head from all Bellamy-related thoughts, but as she was making her way downstairs she was startled by the sudden noise of crystal breaking. And then, following the crash, came Bellamy’s very distinct voice echoing the disaster. Clarke rushed downstairs to see him kneeling in front of a broken plate, trying to pick up the pieces with his fingers. 

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” She hissed, making him jump. He was obviously as surprised as she was, Clarke wasn't usually an early riser.

“I’m sorry the plate slipped,” he muttered, not looking up but still fussing with the broken glass. “I thought I could carry them all at once and then I––”

“I meant, what the hell are you still doing here?”

The realization washed over him like a bucket of ice cold water. Bellamy dropped the pieces of glass he was holding before standing up to face her. His eyes seemed to look for any signs of forgiveness in hers, but when he couldn’t find them his face hardened as well. It was easy for both of them to stare into each other's eyes and allow the poison to take over their relationship once more. 

“I thought you said you were flying back today.”

“Octavia told me the place needing cleaning before the lady showed up to pick up the keys.”

“I know that. But you have no reason to be here. No reason at all, I was supposed to clean up and you were supposed to get on a plane to Germany. And now look at the mess you’ve made.”

The two of them glared at each other. Clarke’s nails were digging into her palms, and Bellamy’s lip was trapped in between his teeth, even so, it was him who broke the silence. 

“We both know you are not mad at me because of this… But this had nothing to do with you, alright? I had a few hours to kill before my flight, I was just trying to be nice.”

“Well that is the problem with you, Bellamy! You are always just ‘trying to be nice’,” she spat, drawing violent air quotes with her trembling fingers. “You are the nice guy, so we are all monsters when compared to you. But the truth is you are a liar. You do nothing but take and take and take, people like you always want back the love you give away. It is impossible to make you happy.”

“Well people like me just want to believe you when you say you’ve changed! But you haven’t changed at all, Clarke. You are still that girl who took Finn for granted and then made it seem like it was his fault when he left you. You always want back the love you push away and I’m tired of you making me feel like it’s my fault this went to shit.”

“ _ You _ drove us off the road, Bellamy! When I fucked you I didn’t realize I was agreeing to marrying you in the morning. This  _ is  _ your fault. But of course, who would believe me? It’s your word against mine, and who would bet against the golden boy?”

“Then why are  _ you  _ so upset about it, then? If you really didn’t care about me at all, then why did you make a scene at the hospital? Why are you flipping out now? It’s too late Clarke.  _ This _ is what  _ you _ wanted, so now you have to fucking live with it.”

And, as if to put emphasis into his words, Bellamy stormed outside of the kitchen. His shoes stepped on top of the broken glass, but he didn’t stop or slowed down. He didn’t look back before slamming the door behind him, and as Clarke tried to pick up the pieces of the mess he’d made she was only reminded of how right he was. 

* * *

Clarke fumbled in her bag to find the keys to Octavia’s place. Things were often lost in the sea of pens, sketches and chewing gum wrappers that was her bag. But now it seemed like she had actually forgotten them at home. She cursed under her breath and prepared to turn around and leave. Just in that moment, the door swung open.

Bellamy gasped when he saw her standing there, and she could only reply with a shriek of her own. The two of them seized the situation, staring at each other in speechless shock. But, when Bellamy noticed his sweater peeking from underneath her leather jacket, his face softened, causing Clarke to blush and tighten her jacket around her body. 

“My flight got delayed, so I just came here to water O’s plants. You know how sensitive they are,” he explained, his gentle voice nothing like the one he had used against her hours before. 

Clarke nodded, her voice paused and soft. “Yeah, I came to do that too. But I think I may have left my spare keys at home.”

He nodded and an awkward silence settled in between them. It didn't take long for Clarke to realize that it was her turn to break it, and so she did. “When is your flight leaving?”

“Four hours from now, so I should probably get going.”

If you asked her, Clarke wouldn’t be able to tell you who initiated the embrace. But soon she had her face in his chest and his nose was buried in her hair.  _ All you have to do was stay,  _ she thought, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud. Not when he was so right about her, not when she knew she had no right to ask anything from him that she was unable to give back. But in her heart she knew those words to be true: if Bellamy decided to miss his flight, they would be able to figure it out. All he had to do was stay with her.

“You were all I wanted,” he whispered into her hair, holding on to her tighter. 

“But not like this,” she completed after a moment. He agreed with a sigh. 

“Just don’t lock me out, alright?” He offered after a heartbeat, pulling away slightly. "I miss you, I am tired of not talking to you."

Without thinking, Clarke nodded, but Bellamy disappeared down the hallway before she could say anything back. 

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t in the plane yet, as he pressed his lips against her forehead fleetingly, it felt like she had already lost him forever. 


	11. Wonderland

She wasn’t quite sure how it started. 

Maybe it had been the day she walked into Octavia’s, and she was on the phone with her brother, telling him all about her last protest outside the courthouse; it took all of Clarke’s self-control to keep her voice even when she said “Tell Bellamy I say hi.” Octavia and Raven jerked their heads to Clarke’s direction, but the blonde ignored their shock and pretended to be immerse on the book on her lap. 

Maybe it was when Bellamy texted her for the first time in months, a single shot of Picasso’s  _ Woman with Artichoke  _ and the caption “field trip to Cologne.” So she replied “cool, buy me something” and soon she had a postcard of one of Kirchner’s nudes. After giving it a lot of thought she grabbed a magnet and stuck it to the fridge. But no matter how many times she walked past it, it wasn’t Kirchner’s striking use of contrast that caught her eye, but the fact that she knew that on the back, along with the mess of stamps that he had made, was his signature and an awkward attempt of making an art joke. 

Clarke lost herself into her job, working extra hours without Lincoln asking her to. She took her music to the libraries inside the museum and spent entire afternoons reading complicated books on her favorite artists. When this turned out not to be time consuming enough, she went back to painting. Soon, her studio became cluttered with discarded canvases and works in progress. Most of the time, Clarke tried to stick to skylines and landscapes, they were both safe and challenging enough to keep her mind occupied. But once in a while a pair of freckled hands would make an appearance in her sketches, and sometimes the trees resembled those that she had seen through the window of the master bedroom at the cabin in the woods. Most nights she reached out for him, but he was always gone. 

* * *

“You work too hard,” Lincoln told Clarke one day, startling her.

“I doubt Mondrian would appreciate it if I didn’t give his compositions all of my attention,” she muttered, looking back to her computer screen. 

“I think Mondrian would understand if you took a week off. With pay,” Lincoln continued, walking closer to her. “Look around you, Griffin. Everyone is gone, you should have left hours ago.”

“Linc, that is very kind of you bu––”

“Do not mistake my offer for kindness,” he replied sternly, cutting her off. “If I don’t stop you, soon enough you will outwork everyone here, including me. I am merely saving my job.”

Clarke’s face broke on a subtle smile and she nodded, saving her work and turning off her computer. 

“Thank you,” she said as she stood up from her chair. 

“Get out of here,” Lincoln replied, the kindest of smiles on his face.

* * *

 

Wells had classes still, but he was excited when Clarke called him to ask if it would be alright for her to visit him for a week. A very jealous Octavia dropped her off at the airport, and a few hours later she was running towards Wells in the arrivals gate. Hugging him felt a lot like coming home. 

Lucky for her, Wells’ Law School was far enough from their hometown so that she didn’t risk running into her parents when she was out and about, killing time waiting for him to get off class. 

“It’s almost… therapeutic,” she told him one day. They were having dinner at a small restaurant. When Wells laughed, his laughter seemed to fill the entire place. 

“Waking up without an alarm?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“You laugh at me, but it is true. To go to sleep knowing you don’t  _ have  _ to wake up, it is priceless”

“If you didn’t wake up your mother would definitely charge me of murder,” Wells teased, taking a sip from his beer. 

Clarke chuckled. “Maybe I’ll die just to spite you.”

“It would seem everything you do is to spite me.” Wells smirked. “Why would you change that when you die?”

“You’re perfectly right. Why ruin a good recipe?”

They toasted to that. 

 

Clarke continued to wake up every day without an alarm, she explored Wells’ town until he was free to hang out with her. She borrowed his paperback novels, finding pleasure in reading something other than academic papers on color and composition. But, more than anything, she thought of Bellamy. In her little bubble of idleness and relaxation, life was never worse but never better because it still lacked him. Not that she would ever bring herself to confess it, to him, to Wells or even to herself. 

Instead, she devoured the short political thrillers that Wells seemed to buy in bulk, and she composed emails without ever hitting send. 

_ Wells lives a simple life, _ she wrote once.  _ Living with him has been amazing, but it is also like looking through a magic mirror into the land of what might have been. If I had pushed through medical school, then I would go back everyday to a comfortable apartment with a sense of purpose. I was always good at school, doing homework and revising assignments gave structure to my life. And goodness knows my life does not have a lot of structure lately. If I hadn’t followed my mother’s advice and gone to a school closer to Wells, maybe we would still be living together. You and I wouldn’t have rushed into things, whispers would remain whispers. Instead, whispers turned to talking, and talking turned into screams. I am tired of screaming at you, Bellamy. And it is nice to be here with Wells, in this land of ‘what ifs’. I wonder where we would be if things had gone a little differently.  _

“Haven’t you heard what becomes of curious minds,” she murmured to herself, pressing delete and shutting down her computer.

* * *

 

“Are you going to be okay?” Wells asked her as he drove her to the airport. 

“You waited this long to ask?” She teased, swallowing back the knot in her throat. “What if I said no?”

“Then I would turn around and drive you back home.”

“You can’t u-turn here, Wells. It’s illegal.”

“Clarke,” he grumbled. 

“I’ll be fine, Wells. I know it seems like I am spinning out of control but I am fine, alright? Bellamy is in Germany, and we are not fighting anymore. We took a wrong turn and we fell down a rabbit hole, but it’s over now.”

“Are you saying your parents' cabin was Wonderland?” Wells’ tone was half a joke, but true interest sparked underneath. 

“In a way, in the least cheesy way, it was. It was all new and exciting, I mean, have you seen the guy? He was charming and handsome, and as I felt his arms twisting around me I could feel my ego being boosted by the fact he wanted  _ me,  _ not his perfect girlfriend. He calmed my fears with his Cheshire cat smile,” Clarke teased, but the joke sounded empty, even to her. 

“Then what went wrong?”

“It’s all fun and games until somebody loses their mind,” she mumbled. “It was a weekend, it was never supposed to last longer than that. But we both pretended it could last forever and that was our mistake, my mistake. I should know better than that by now.”

“What do you mean?” Wells asked moments later, with the hesitance that comes with already knowing the answer to your question. 

Clarke swallowed. “I mean that I had found Wonderland before. Finn and I, we got lost in it, we were too in love to think straight. And to be quite honest, I don’t think I managed to get out completely. I just dragged Bellamy down with me.”

Wells drove in silence the remaining minutes to the airport and, once he helped her pull out her suitcase from the trunk, he let out a heavy sigh. “After all you just said, do you really expect me to believe you will be fine?”

Clarke gave him an honest smile and hugged him. “The worst is already behind us,” she promised him before walking away.

* * *

Octavia pretended not to notice her brother’s name on Clarke’s phone as the blonde texted him.  _ I just landed. I might have made an impulsive purchase in one of the airport bookstores.  _

But she couldn’t remain quiet when Clarke’s phone immediately chimed, as if he had just been waiting by the phone for her to text him. 

“It is three am in Germany,” she mentioned. Clarke shot her a dirty look. “I am just wondering where we all stand,” she defended herself, starting the car. “I know having you guys dance at my wedding was a bad choice, and I am sorry, but I hate tiptoeing around you both.”

“You don’t have to tiptoe,” Clarke replied almost instantly. The honesty in her voice surprised them both. “We all made mistakes, and it’s fine. But Bellamy and I, we are trying to go back to being just friends. So maybe if we all stop tiptoeing we will make it.”

Octavia didn’t bring it up again, but Clarke knew exactly what she meant to ask her next.  _ But do you want to be just friends? _

As soon as the door of her apartment closed behind her, Clarke walked to her studio, going through the scrap papers until she found the one she was looking for. A few days after the wedding, Raven had called her to say that her good friend Lexa had asked for her number. 

Eager to answer the question that Octavia had not voiced, Clarke dialed the numbers on her phone and texted Lexa. 

_ Hey, this is Clarke Griffin. I am so sorry it took me this long to reach you. Would you like to grab a coffee sometime? _

After a long breath, she hit send. She silenced her phone and went to bed without unpacking. It wasn’t until a few days later that she realized she had left Bellamy’s text unanswered. 


	12. Shake it Off

Dating Lexa is easy, mostly because they are not dating, not really. They met for coffee for the first time two days after Clarke finally texted her, Lexa was wearing a yellow sundress that made her smile shine ten times brighter. The evening ended with the two girls making Kraft Mac n Cheese and drinking wine at Lexa’s apartment late into the night. When Clarke met Octavia the next day and told her everything about it, she could tell that her best friend was struggling to process both Clarke’s newfound happiness and her own disappointment.

Little did she know, Clarke was going through the same.

Lexa showed up at the museum a couple of days later, and Clarke gave her a tour of her favorite exhibits, and one of the paintings not in display. She could tell that Lexa was interested in the art, but mostly in being shown things no one else had access to. They held hands as they walked to a nearby restaurant to have dinner, and Clarke woke up the next day with Lexa lying by her side. Pleased at the prospect of not having to wake up to an empty bed every single day, Clake sunk into her pillows, only to be waken up later by a text from Bellamy.

 

“Don’t you think you are rushing into things?” Wells asked her on the phone two weeks later. He had called to check in and he was surprised to hear that Clarke was shopping for a dress to wear to be Lexa’s plus-one at her school’s party. 

“I know I am,” Clarke replied, unfazed. She had given the situation much thought. “But it is going to be alright, Wells, it’s not what you think. Look, I might have not told her  _ everything,  _ but I told her why I didn’t go back to her on the wedding, and that was enough for her to understand. And she hasn’t told me everything either, but I know enough to be sure she wants what I want.”

“And what do you want?”

“I want to stop feeling miserable and alone. I know I brought this on myself, that I pushed Bellamy away, but I did the right thing for him, for both of us. Lexa is fun, and we are both fine with it not being serious or exclusive between us. I am going to be fine,” she promised. 

Maybe it was the honesty in her voice, or the fact that he had a test to study for, but Wells eventually gave in and promised to call later.

* * *

 

Clarke did her best to not lie to Bellamy while trying not to rub in her new relationship (if that was even the right word for it) with Lexa. She remembered too vividly the night he had helped her with her new bookshelf, his anger when he thought she had been flaunting her many flings into his face. Above everything, she wanted to avoid hurting him ever again, but she was also aware that there was no possible way of protecting his feelings completely. 

Whenever Bellamy asked her how her day had been she was honest without giving much detail. “I went to the movies with Lexa,” she would say nonchalantly, knowing that he had seen them together at the wedding and that he would join the dots himself. “Raven and I went to a bar to listen go Lexa’s band,” she said a few days later. For him, that was the last straw. After a few minutes of hesitation, he replied “You and Lexa have been spending a lot of time together.”

“Yes,” Clarke replied. Her fingers trembling as she hit send. “We have been having fun.”

_ Like a band aid,  _ she thought, aiming to bring the conversation to a quick stop. But she also hoped that he would understand the meaning behind her careful choice of words.  _ We are having fun, Bellamy. It’s not serious, but that doesn’t mean you and I are not over.  _

It took a few hours, but Bellamy finally replied. “I’m glad you are having fun, Princess. Lexa has always been very nice.” And with that, Clarke was reassured that they were okay. 

Even if she wasn’t.

* * *

 

It was easy to forget that she wasn’t okay when she was with Lexa. The two girls were obviously bandaging their wounds while trying not to acknowledge they were there. Both had been very hurt, and most probably shouldn't be jumping into a relationship, even one as loose as theirs. But they were simply too tired of being hurt  _ and  _ alone. Clarke remembered the stories Raven and Octavia had told her before she had the opportunity of meeting Lexa in person –– all the anecdotes of ‘Woods’ and her indie band, of the gorgeous Columbia graduate student that was always working towards changing the world, of Lexa’s tragic break up with Costia. In the back of her mind, she had always been intrigued by Raven’s friend, but she had thought nothing good could come out of getting two broken hearts together. 

A month after their first date, she realized she had done the right thing by shaking that feeling off and asking her out for a coffee. 

Lexa seemed to always be busy with school and homework, and Clarke had spent lazy afternoons at her place simply killing time as Lexa slaved herself memorizing legal terms. If she remembered correctly, one of the many reasons that had eventually led to her relationship with Costia to crumble down, had been the little amount of free time Lexa had. The flexibility of their relationship allowed Clarke to focus on her work, and gave Lexa enough time to focus on her International Law degree. It also gave both the opportunity to enjoy some company on most nights, even if it meant waking up at 3 am to let in a very tired Lexa into her apartment. 

On Friday nights, Raven and Octavia joined her at the bar so they could listen to Lexa’s band. The four of them found themselves in double dates often, and Octavia seemed to be learning how to be okay with the fact that Clarke and Bellamy would never be together. She had begged Clarke to make things right with him, but her best friend pointed out that there was nothing to set right. She didn’t want to be with him, and they both had to learn to live with that. They were even back to being friends, despite Clarke spending most of her time with Lexa. 

Soon, the semester ended and Wells had the chance to meet Lexa in person. The two of them discussed politics heatedly and teamed up against Clarke when playing Mario Kart. When it was time for him to go back home, he seemed to be convinced that Clarke was going to be alright. 

Of course, they had all forgotten to take into account the Abigail Griffin factor. 

 

Clarke’s apartment was dark, the only light coming from the tv screen, where a forgotten movie was still playing. In her couch, Clarke was busy kissing her way down Lexa’s neck into her cleavage, the brunette letting out long sighs as she enjoyed the other’s fluttering kisses and gentle sucking. They were both startled when a loud knock was heard in the door. 

“Probably not important,” Clarke mused, going back into Lexa’s neck before a very familiar voice was heard through the door. 

“Clarke Griffin, don’t make me use my key.”

“ _ Fuck, _ “ Clarke hissed, jumping off the couch. “That’s my mother. You’re not wearing any pants. Crap, where are your pants?!”

A second later, Lexa was rushing into Clarke’s room and closing the door, and Clarke was straightening herself and opening the door after turning on the light. 

“Hey mom, I’m sorry. I must have fallen asleep watching this movie,” she shrugged before pulling her mother in for a hug. 

Abby returned the hug shortly before stepping inside. Clarke stood by as she observed her mother inspecting the apartment, now that the lights were on it was obvious she wasn’t alone. The two plates of Thai take out, the two lipstick stained wine glasses, the discarded pants that Clarke hadn’t been able to find in time. 

“I reckon this is why you have been avoiding our calls?”

“I don’t pick up the phone for a few days and you fly across the country to check on me? Mom, I am not a twelve-year-old.”

Abby rolled her eyes. “I am here for a medical convention, but you would know that if you had answered the phone. I would have taken you and your…  _ friend _ for dinner.” 

Clarke felt herself shiver at the way her mother said ‘friend’. Although her mother had never been Finn’s biggest fan, at least she appreciated the fact that he had been a constant in Clarke’s life. Always charming, Finn had been Clarke’s date to every event through high school and the best part of college. After the break up, Clarke had shown up with a different person every single time, which never failed to piss off her mother.  _ You go out in so many dates,  _ she had told Clarke once,  _ you’d figure you’d be able to make one stay. _

“I am sorry mom, work has been taking a lot of my time. But we can have brunch tomorrow? How long are you staying?”

As it usually happened, Abby focused on the only part of Clarke’s sentence that interested her. “I guess that means you haven’t stopped by NYU’s med school, have you?”

“I don’t  _ want  _ to go back to med school, mom. That is what  _ you  _ want,” she spat before she could think about being careful. Her mother was obviously too shocked to say something, so Clarke sighed and continued, finally braving herself to be honest with her mom. “Look, I know what you think. I know you think I must have nothing in my brain if I choose to pursue a career on art over medicine, that I stay out too late partying and throwing away my future. But the truth is that I love my job. And Lincoln said that if I keep it up I could become head of the registrar, and maybe if I go get my masters I could finally be a curator. Don’t you see? i t might not be what you wanted for me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t keep cruising.”

Abby let out a long sigh and walked towards the door. 

“Tomorrow, brunch at noon, I will text you the address. Be there on time,” she said as she walked out. 

“Aye aye, Captain,” Clarke said bitterly before walking inside her room to collapse in her bed with Lexa, her playfulness gone.

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you actually told her you didn’t want to go back to Med School. If your mother glared at me I might pee my pants, to be honest,” Octavia said the following day. Clarke had just entered her apartment and kicked off her heels, exhausted after the tense breakfast with her mother. 

“I almost did. For a moment she looked like she was going to cancel my rent and I would have to go back to her place.”

“You make enough money now,” Octavia reminded her. “You could move in with us.”

“And then she would be  _ really  _ pissed.”

“Right,” Octavia mused, sinking on her couch. “I forget I am the black sheep of your friend group.”

“Hey, don’t say that.” Clarke sat up, looking at Octavia intently. “She has no idea how valuable you are. Or maybe she does. She knows that if I were to end up living with you, then life would be too good to go back to living by her rules ever again. I’d have no reason to pick up the phone.”

Octavia gave her a sad smile, so Clarke (encouraged by the many mimosas she had drank trying to survive the brunch) decided to confess something she never had before. “Besides, she always liked you way better than she liked Finn.”

“What?!” Octavia’s eyes widened. “But, perfect, chivalrous Finn Collins? Your mother seemed to lo–– No, I thought she  _ adored  _ Finn.”

Clarke shook her head. “She obviously had no reason to hate him, other than the fact that she is judgmental like that. So, in public, she had to act like everything was fine. But she spent half the day begging me to finish it up, I bet she made a party the day it all ended.” Clarke gave a long sigh and looked away. “I mean, it must have not lasted long. Because, after we broke up, my grades dropped and I failed to keep a relationship for more than two weeks. So I bet she misses Finn now.”

The last sentence proved to be a mistake, because after a few moments of hesitation, Octavia found himself saying. “I miss him too.”

To which Clarke had no option but to return. “Ditto.”

The two girls fell into a pensive silence, but it wasn’t long until Octavia broke it. “Can I ask you something?” She murmured tentatively. 

“Of course,” Clarke said, not knowing she would regret it soon after. 

“There was this rumor going around… I never listened to it because it made no sense but I guess I wonder where it came from.”

“What rumor?”

“That you cheated on Finn, and that was why he left.” Clarke’s face fell, and she had to suppress the sudden impulse to run away. When Octavia spoke again, the pain in her voice was unmissable. “You didn’t, did you?”

“No,” Clarke choked out after a beat. “No I didn’t. But  _ that _ is why he left.”

“What do you mean?”

Clarke buried her face in her hands, massaging her temples. She could almost hear Wells’ voice echoing inside her head.  _ You have to tell her the truth, Clarke. She is your best friend.  _ Her eyes prickled with tears, she knew Wells had been right all along, but she had never been able to think about telling anyone about it. Much less after all this time.

“Clarke?”

“I’m sorry O. I should have told you the truth but I–– I couldn’t. I am so sorry.”

“Clarke what the hell did you do?”

“Finn hated his life," she blurted out, trying to put her thoughts in order. "I thought I was doing the right thing. He wanted to take off and travel the world, but I couldn’t go with him… I didn’t  _ want  _ to go with him. But he just wouldn’t understand that. He kept working in a job he hated, Wells and I were always so busy with school, and you were all the way here. We fought almost every day, we said very nasty things to each other, but as much as he hated what he was going through, I knew he loved me too much to leave. But I loved him too much to let him stay and ruin his life.” Clarke swallowed, unable to meet Octavia’s eyes she continued to speak to the carpet. “After a while, I started feeling sick. I thought it was a combination of the stress and the long hours at the hospital where I was doing my summer internship… turned out I w–– I was pregnant.”

“ _ What?!”  _ Octavia shrieked, and Clarke bit her lip, suddenly unable to speak. Her breath caught in her breath, much like it had when she had held the positive pregnancy test all those years ago. The memories crashed against her: the cold panic creeping down her spine, her heartbeat racing until she could hear nothing but a buzz in her ears, and the bathroom spinning out of control until she vomited violently in the sink. 

“I–– I panicked,” she stammered after a while, her cheeks damp by tears as she tried to push through and finish the story. “Finn and I could barely see eye to eye. He hated the fact that he had wasted three years of his life, waiting for me to jump into his arms and decide to throw everything out of the window and elope. I knew that he was too good, that he would never abandon his cihld. But I could only imagine the life that would follow, with us fighting every day and blaming each other for ruining the other’s life. So I told him the baby wasn’t his.”

“Oh, Clarke.” Octavia’s voice broke as she moved closer to her best friend, Clarke’s shoulders were now shaking as she attempted to hold herself together. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I–– I couldn’t. I felt horrible. As soon as he left I wanted to take it back. But I knew that now he would finally be able to take off and do what he wanted. I hated myself for hurting him, but I couldn’t bear holding him back anymore.”

Clarke wiped the tears of her face and took a long breath, finally braving herself to look at Octavia. 

“And then… just when I was about to tell you, when I was about to ask you what to do next. I lost the baby. It was horrible, like losing him all over again. That’s why I barely made it through my senior year. The break up, the miscarriage, keeping things from you. It was all too much.”

Octavia pulled her into a hug, which Clarke appreciated, even though she knew she didn’t deserve it. 

“I’m so sorry I kept it from you Octavia. I just couldn’t talk about it. It was too painful. The only reason Wells knew was because we lived together and the morning sickness and constant crying gave it away.”

Clarke fell asleep hours later, still being held by Octavia. As she slept, her best friend couldn't stop thinking about the fact she finally had the puzzle piece that she had been missing all along. Unaware of how much she meant to Finn, Clarke had pushed him away ‘for his own good’, just like she had done with Bellamy. No wonder she couldn’t seem to shake it off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per usual, I am very sorry about taking long. But this was a very difficult chapter to write. I wasn't able to sneak in that many lyrics this time, but I hope you enjoy this chapter. Hopefully I will be posting again this weekend!


	13. This Love

It took Octavia a few weeks, but in the end she seemed to forgive Clarke completely. Most importantly, she seemed to finally understand and respect Clarke’s decision when it came to pushing her brother away. Even Bellamy, being an ocean away, realized something had changed when Octavia’s tone suddenly shifted the next time Clarke was brought up in their phone conversations. Usually, Octavia seemed to encourage him to talk to her, to continue fighting a war he knew was lost. But lately, she only mentioned her best friend vaguely, which only led him to lose the last bit of hope he didn’t even know he had left. 

And so, life continued. Clarke visited her parents for a weekend, trying to smooth things out, and she went back to the city just in time for work. She treated herself to a night in the theater with Lexa. The two of them continued their easygoing relationship without any problems, giving each other what they needed and never asking for too much. They enjoyed a month of laziness, with Lexa finally off school and having more time together than usual; they went hiking on the weekends, spent long nights binge watching tv series, and playing board games at Octavia and Raven’s apartment.

It was when Lexa’s internship started that everything began crumbling around them. Lexa was once again buried in her workload, spending hours buried in books and writing emails well into the night. It was in that moment that destiny chose to bring Costia back into her life. 

Costia, the beautiful journalist that had stolen Lexa’s heart a long time ago. Costia, the blue-eyed, long-long haired woman that had stormed out of Lexa’s apartment in the middle of a fight vowing to never come back. Costia, the elephant in the room whenever things got serious between Lexa and Clarke. Her office was only a block away from Lexa’s internship. 

“Honestly, you’d think New York City was big enough,” she hissed at no one in particular when she told Clarke about it. The blonde simply pulled her into a hug, knowing perfectly well it was not her comfort she craved, but due to the nature of their relationship there was no trace of jealousy in Clarke’s chest. 

“I know how you feel,” she said after a while. “Every time you see them, it’s like plucking out flower petals. This love is good, this love is bad, this love is good, this love is bad.”

Lexa swallowed hard, nuzzling herself against Clarke’s neck. “Whatever it is, this love is alive and back from the dead,” she grumbled. 

Clarke shrugged. “It was bound to happen.” And with that ominous thought, both girls got up to get ready for bed.

* * *

 

Things fell back together, adjusting themselves to the unexpected Costia sightings. Clarke avoided walking past Lexa’s internship, which put an end to her bringing lunch and coffee after an especially long night. And Lexa dove head first into her work, trying to distract herself from anything Costia-related, thus shortening the hours the two spent together. However, it did not put a strain into their relationship at all. 

“Only you and Lexa would be able to pull off something like that,” Raven said once. Lexa had just kissed Clarke briefly before hopping on the stage of the bar, securing her cherry red bass on her shoulder and tuning it last minute before their performance. “I mean. I’ve heard about friends with benefits going well before… but you two are on a whole different level.”

“It’s easy when you are in love with someone else,” Clarke said with a shrug. “Even if I  _ wanted _ something more than what we have, I know Lexa wouldn’t be able to give it to me.”

“Alright, that solves one part of the equation,” Raven added carefully. “But what about y––”

Saving Clarke from having to worry about giving any sort of explanations on her behavior, Octavia made her way back to the table and dropped three beers. The blinding smile on her face could only mean one thing, and without giving them a chance to venture guessing, she blurted out: “Bellamy’s coming back!”

Before Clarke was expected to react, Lexa’s band started playing and the bar broke up in cheering. Chugging her beer, the blonde prepared herself for the weeks to follow. 

 

It was hard to believe that the year was almost over. A week after she received the news of his return, Clarke sat on her studio while Lexa took a shower, looking outside the window into the busy streets of New York. She had been living there for more than a year, she had been following her dreams for a year. Soon enough, she would have been living without Bellamy for a year, and then the year would be over. 

She barely looked up when Lexa stepped into the room, even though she had clearly heard her walking inside. Lexa made her way towards her, ignoring, as usual, the many freckled hands, forest landscapes, and gentle eyes that covered the scattered papers around the studio. She knew it was one of Clarke’s biggest pet peaves, to find herself having to abandon yet another drawing or painting because it suddenly reminded her too much of him. On her desk, Clarke’s phone pinged with a message. 

“Will you put him out of his misery anytime soon?” She questioned, sitting on Clarke’s lap. 

She took her eyes off the window, smiling sadly at Lexa and pushing her dark hair off her face. “It is easier to avoid him when he is in a different continent. I’m enjoying it while I can.”

“Except you don’t want to avoid him.”

“Except we are not talking about this.”

The look on Lexa’s face was enough for Clarke to realize that yes, they  _ were  _ going to be talking about it, and not for the reasons she had originally imagined.

“You saw Costia today?”

“She asked me if we could have coffee on Friday.”

Clarke nodded, biting her lip. “It was about time.”

“I am not sure what is going to happen, but whatever it is. I want to be ready for it.”

“I understand,” Clarke reassured her. “Will you stay tonight, though?”

“Are you kidding me?” Lexa had an honest yet sad smile on her face. “You’ve been so good to me Clarke, do you honestly think I could just walk out on you like this? Besides, your bed is so comfortable.”

 

Clarke stroked Lexa’s bare leg lazily, looking up at her bedroom’s ceiling. “To be quite honest, I should thank Costia for this. If you hadn’t wanted her all along, it would have never worked so well between us. Though I am not sure she would appreciate me saying this.”

Lexa chuckled, turning around to face Clarke. “Then I should thank Bellamy.” The blonde stiffened next to her. “Though I am sure he would not appreciate it either. Or you.”

“I’ll stop wanting him, you know?” Clarke said after a moment, surprising even herself as she finally admitted how she felt. “I had to let him go free once,  and though it feels like he is coming back to me, I know this can’t happen. It’s for his own good, we should only be friends.”

Lexa shrugged. “We are young. I guess we could keep running, but in the end we all go back to what we need.”

* * *

 

The apartment felt awfully empty when Lexa took the last of her stuff. Clarke knew that they would keep in touch, but that didn’t change the fact that she would be sleeping alone every night after that. Just as tossing and turning around with someone new did not change the fact that he was gone. 

As the door closed behind Lexa, Clarke found the strength to finally open the conversation labelled with Bellamy’s name and write a reply. 

“I am sorry,” she typed. “Things have been crazy in the museum, and Lexa and I had some talking to do. I’m glad you are coming back, have a safe flight. I’ll see you around.”

Unsure on why she had added the Lexa comment, Clarke turned her phone upside down and sighed. She had a week to prepare herself  before he came. A week to push him out of her mind. 

Soon enough, this proved to be easier than she had originally thought, as her phone started buzzing, Octavia’s ringtone filling the room. 

“Hey,” Clarke greeted weakly as she picked up the call. The silence on the other side of the line left a sour taste in her mouth. “O?”

“You have to tell her,” Raven’s angered voice was heard on the background. Octavia sighed. 

“I–– Finn called,” she said after a long pause. Clarke felt as if she was going to pass out. “We talk sometimes, he likes to check on you but always asked me not to say anything. And I would have kept it that way except––”

“You  _ didn’t,”  _ Clarke hissed. 

“He deserved to know! It was his child too, alright?” Octavia’s voice was trembling, and despite the rehearsed ease of her argument, Clarke could tell she wondered if she had done the right thing. “And all this time he has been torturing himself about what he did to lose you and I just couldn't take it anymore. You need to talk to him. He was your best friend,  _ our _ best friend. Does that mean nothing to you?" 

Clarke hung up the phone, banging it against the kitchen counter. But before she had time to obsess about Octavia’s words her phone rang again with her ringtone. Refusing to pick up, Clarke put his phone in silent before dropping it inside a kitchen drawer and slamming it shut. 

In silent screams, in wildest dreams, she had never dreamed of this. 

Clarke had taken the burden of Finn’s hatred, she had allowed him to loathe her in exchange for his freedom. Although she missed him dearly, she knew it was best for both of them if he left to never come back. She had been given a chance to spare him from the pain, and she had taken it gladly. And now Octavia had fucked everything up. 

 

She woke up in her couch, unable to go back to the bed she had shared with Lexa for so long. Her eyes were puffy and her throat sore from sobbing. It was late Sunday afternoon, and Clarke felt like jumping off her window. 

After making a bee-line into her kitchen to make some coffee, Clarke decided to finally pull her phone from the kitchen drawer, but the battery was dead. She plugged it and watched the coffee maker, as if her rage would make the coffee drip faster. 

Once she had taken the first sip of her coffee, it seemed to Clarke that she would be able to address the situation in front of her. She would sulk and ignore Octavia until her anger went away, she would email an apology to Finn and they would continue their separate lives. In the kitchen counter, as if to prove her wrong, her phone came to life with the many notifications she had missed during the night. 

Buried under Raven and Wells’ texts asking her if she was alright, there were two very alarming things. Bellamy had called, multiple times, and his texts made it clear that he was worried about her vague Lexa mention. Octavia had left a million voicemails, called another hundred times, and texted her so much Clarke was amazed her phone was still working. Her last text was the most panic inducing thing Clarke had read in her entire life, including the pregnancy test that had started all of this mess. 

“I don’t care if you hate me forever, at least read this message. I am begging you. I am sorry, I thought I was doing the right thing. I never thought he’d just fly here.”

The news dropped like a bucket of ice on top of Clarke’s head. A noise made her eyes dart to the door, only to realize seconds later that it had just been her phone hitting the floor as she dropped it. 

 

 

Clarke forced herself to take a shower, attempting to relax without achieving much. Unable to sleep, eat, or anything of the like, Clarke sat on her living room to wait for the unavoidable. She figured she could have left. Took off on the first plane anywhere. But what was the point?

Although she had been expected it, the tentative knocking on her door startled her. Her heart raced and she considered not moving. The lights were off, the place was silent, she could pull it off. But, driven by a mysterious force, Clarke managed to push herself off the couch and turn on the lights on her way to open the door. 

Time had treated Finn kindly. His skin was tan and his hair long, his eyes sparkling and his mouth open, as if trying to say something. It took a while, but Clarke finally regained control over herself enough to step out of his way. Finn walked into her apartment, and soon he was pulling her into a hug. 

“I’m sorry,” she let out against his skin. Glad his scent had not changed. 

He tightened his hold on her. “I am sorry too.”

Somewhere in her kitchen, her phone glowed in the dark only to have the screen go dark again. One missed call from Bellamy Blake.

* * *

 

“Thank God,” Bellamy breathed into the phone when Clarke finally picked up his call. “I had been worried sick, are you al––”

“Bell… this is, this is not a good time,” she cut him off abruptly. Bellamy had heard Clarke’s voice in many different tones. Happy, sad, angry, sleepy, gentle, furious, calm, sassy… but she had never sounded detached. Not even when she had promised to forget him. 

“What do you mean? You sent me the text about Lexa...”

“I can’t talk about that right now. In fact I can’t talk at all, Bellamy.”

“Alright…” the sadness in his voice was unmistakable, but she didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll be back in the city next week maybe we can––” This time it wasn’t Clarke, but someone else who cut him off. His heartbeat raced as an unknown voice was heard in the background. “So maybe we can talk in pers–– is someone there?” He asked stupidly. 

“Stop calling, Bell. I will talk to you later,” Clarke returned before the line dropped. 

Bellamy kept the phone against his ear for a moment too long, trying to process what was going on. Sure, he had never expected Clarke to jump up and down when receiving the news of his return. But he had never expected her to be so cold about it. Just when he thought things were going back to normal. 

Without stopping for a single second in order to be reasonable, Bellamy called Clarke again, but the call went straight into voicemail. Not wasting time, he called his sister next. 

“Hey Bell, what’s up?” She said distractedly, it sounded like she was going through her bag. “Is it important?”

“Why, do you have somewhere to be?” He asked, exasperated. 

“I do, I’m going to Clarke’s to see Finn. But if you need something I can––” this time it was him who furiously ended the call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry about the not-so-subtle pov change at the end! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I will be back with more soon 


	14. How You Get the Girl

In the end, it seemed like Finn and Clarke did not have much to say to each other. Once long-past-due apologies were exchanged and they started working on forgiving themselves, it seemed like it all clicked into its place. He was finally able to understand the abrupt ending to their relationship, and Clarke was reassured to find out that, despite all the pain it had brought, she had made the right choice. Finn was having the time of his life, working random jobs just long enough to afford his ticket onto the next city. He confessed he often thought of her, and showed her some pictures he had snapped thinking that she would have loved to sketch the view.

Soon, they moved on from his endless traveling to talk about her own life changes. Finn had a huge, annoying, shit-eating grin threatening to form. “I don’t meant to say ‘I told you so’...” he began as she told him about dropping out of medical school, his lips finally giving into his trademark crooked grin. 

“I know, I know. I should have listened to you on that one, but I was too afraid of my mother biting my head off.”

“Understandable,” Finn conceded. “So you pulled a Mondrian, and you came to New York to free yourself.”

“So you  _ did  _ listen to me whenever I would ramble about art.” Clarke brought a hand to her chest, pretending to be touched. 

“Occasionally. Only when the stories were exciting or petty, and it often happens that art history is crammed with both.”

They laughed and Clarke leaned back on her couch. She couldn’t help but notice that there was much more space in between them than in the shared nights of their past, but somehow there was no force of attraction pulling her onto his orbit.  _ I guess this is what moving on feels like,  _ she thought, blinking in confusion as Finn poked her arm with his phone. 

“It’s Octavia again. You will have to put her out of her misery soon, Griffin. She was only doing the right thing.”

Clarke sighed, it was much easier to realize she had been overreacting now that Finn was sitting in her living room, no signs of a fight anywhere in the horizon. 

She fished her phone from in between the pillows of her couch and called Octavia, unsurprisingly, she picked up at the first tone. 

“––so sorry. So incredibly sorry, will you please forgive me? I never thought the asshole would just show up like that!” Octavia rambled away, obviously having started to speak before she had brought the phone to her mouth. 

“O, O, stop,” Clarke pleaded. “I forgive you. But I need you to load up on snacks and bring the car, we are going to scare the living hell out of Wells.”

“Clarke Griffin, I don’t deserve you,” Octavia said after a pause.

* * *

 It was a brilliant plan, actually. As they waited for Octavia to show up in Bellamy’s car, Finn and Clarke continued to catch up, their enthusiasm fueled by the idea of having the group back together. Wells was completing an internship five hours away from the city, and although he had promised to visit them as soon as he was done, it would be much better to go visit him while Finn was still in the United States. 

Octavia flung herself into Clarke’s arms as soon as she opened the door of her apartment, still begging for forgiveness as the blonde hugged her tightly. Ever since they were small girls, there was not a feeling Clarke hated more than getting into a fight with her best friend. Finally, Octavia let go and she took a few tentative steps towards Finn, as if he was a ghost. But when they pulled away from their hug, it felt as if nothing had changed. 

Clarke passed around travel mugs with warm coffee, even though they were all too awake to worry about the road before them, not to mention the highway was much less threatening than the road into the woods. Clarke’s face dropped slightly as she sat on the passenger seat, everything about that car reminded her about that night. If she looked down, she could almost see his freckled hand, wrapped tightly around hers. If she looked outside her window, she could picture the trees flying outside. If she closed her eyes, she could feel the car spinning one, two, three times and then stopping. 

“Clarke?” Octavia said, dragging her out of her memories. 

“Hum?”

“I was asking if you could pull out your GPS,” Octavia said, turning on the engine and getting started with the roadtrip playlist. With Octavia’s music blasting from the speakers, it was almost easy to put Bellamy out of her mind. Almost. 

 

It was the crack of dawn when they showed up outside the apartment Wells was renting. Clarke distinctly remembered him mentioning to her that he was only working 30 hours a week, which meant he had Fridays off. In a few hours, it would be acceptable for Clarke to call in sick for work, although she doubted Lincoln would have problem, seeing that he was always eager to get her out of the office to get some air. 

“I could use a nap,” Octavia said, stepping out of the car and stretching. Clarke had taken over driving for the second half of the trip.

“Finn did fall asleep, so I say it is up to him to keep Wells occupied while we rest.”

“I only dozed off a few minutes,” Finn protested, to which the girls rolled their eyes in perfect synchrony. 

They buzzed on Wells’ apartment and got no reply, so Clarke called him. 

“Clarke? It is six in the morning, are you alright?”

“I’m tired and I need you to open the door, Octavia really needs to pee.”

“ _ What? _ ” Wells’ voice sounded suddenly more awake. “You’re here?!”

“Open the door,” Clarke said before hanging up the phone. 

Minutes later, Wells showed up at the door. He was still wearing a ratty t-shirt and sweatpants, and he looked ready to murder her for waking him up. Octavia walked past Clarke and kissed Wells on the cheek, walking inside the building, the blonde did the same, turning around just in time to see Finn walking in behind her. He clasped Wells’ shoulder and gave him a nonchalant grin, as if they had seen each other just a few hours ago. The expression in Wells’ face made the whole trip worth it. 

 

It was almost noon when they went to sleep. Octavia and Clarke fell on Wells’ bed, lulled by the sound of the two boys catching up in the living room. A few hours later, now fully rested, they asked for Chinese food and opened a few beers to celebrate. It felt just like the old times, and as Clarke laughed until her stomach hurted, she couldn’t help but to feel that everything would be alright from now on. 

The weekend together proved to be exactly what they all needed. The group had crumbled down, leaving a lot of open wounds that were just now being addressed. They watched movies and played board games, Finn presented Octavia with a glorious necklace as an apology for having missed her wedding, and Clarke felt like she could breath for the first time in years. Finally, the secret that had consumed her was known by all the people she cared most in the world. At last, she could move on and enjoy what was coming next, regardless of what it was. 

On Sunday morning, Finn bought a one way ticket to Argentina, a country he had yet to cross off his list. 

“Maybe you can send me the pictures now, the ones that you think I’d like to paint,” Clarke suggested. Wells and Octavia were waiting downstairs as they said goodbye to each other. 

Finn gave her a small smile and nodded. “Only if you send me pictures of the finished works.”

“Deal,” she confirmed, pulling him into a hug. To her surprise, he didn’t pull away right away, but lingered. 

“Clarke?” He asked, and she understood that he was about to say something that he couldn’t voice when looking into her eyes. “Just… promise me you won’t torture yourself about what happened. I am so sorry you had to go through it alone, but you were right. We had to let go of each other. I didn’t leave because you weren’t good enough, Griffin, on the contrary.”

Clarke nodded against his neck, stepping back a moment after. “And I didn’t push you away because I didn’t love you, on the contrary.”

He gave her a smile and pushed her hair off her face, winking an eye before walking out of Wells’ apartment. 

Minutes later, the car engine was heard and Wells made his way back into the living room. Clarke was still standing on the same spot, her lower lip trapped between her teeth. Wells did not need an explanation, so he merely held her as Clarke braced herself to do what Finn had asked her. She had spent a long time holding on to the memories, and she had almost forgotten who she was without them.

* * *

 

Wells waved at them from the sidewalk as they drove away. Clarke was silent in the beginning, but all it took was a good song for her to start humming along. Octavia joined in, and soon they were both singing at the top of her lungs. They drove into the city just as the lights started to die out, and it was pouring rain as Octavia parked her car in front of Clarke’s building. She reached for her phone and cursed at the notifications, since it was on silent, both the girls had completely forgotten about it. 

“Bellamy has called me like twenty times…  _ shit,  _ he is going to be pissed,” she said nervously. Clarke checked her phone, but she had no missed calls. “I’d invite myself in, but I gotta get yelled at by my big brother, plus I haven’t seen Raven all weekend…”

“Get the hell out of here,” Clarke said lovingly, reaching across the car to kiss O’s cheek and pulling her backpack from the backseat. 

She closed her apartment’s door and sighed, she was ready for a shower and going straight to bed. Lucky for her, she had Mondays off because she had the feeling she might sleep until noon, at least. Clarke dropped her backpack on the floor of her bedroom and turned on the shower, stopping herself from removing her clothes when she heard a loud knock on the front door. 

Thinking she might have forgotten something in Octavia’s car, she let the water run as she made her quick way to the door. But much to her surprise, it was Bellamy who was standing outside. He was pale as a ghost, and shaking from the rain. Around him, in the floor, there were all of his suitcases, he must have jumped on a train straight from the airport and come to her place. 

“Are you insane?” She asked, too shocked to remember her manners and invite him in. “You… you were not supposed to get here until Thursd––”

“I changed my ticket, I had to come… I had to see you,” Bellamy mumbled, interrupting her. His chest was rising and falling quickly as he struggled to catch his breath, as if he had just ran upstairs. Truth being told, he might have. “All this time I was too afraid to tell you what I wanted, Clarke. But then Octavia told me Finn was here and I panicked. I couldn’t stand the thought of you going back to him without knowing the truth.”

“Bellamy what are you talk––”

“I love you,” he interrupted her again. “I love you, and I have loved you since the day you got to the city. When I woke up the next day and I saw you sleeping on my couch, and all I wanted to do was to make you coffee and kiss away your hangover. I love you, Clarke.” Bellamy took a deep breath, his eyes burning into hers. He waited for her to speak, but no words came out, so he continued. “I want you, for worse or for better. This six months, after the wedding, they were unbearable. It was even worse than when I just left and I––”

Suddenly, he stopped talking, leaning in as if to listen to something happening inside her apartment. When his eyes returned to hers Bellamy looked heartbroken. “Someone is in the shower,” he breathed out, the pain in his voice unmistakable. “He is here, isn’t he? I am too late.” 

It was those words that snapped Clarke out of her shock, mostly because it looked like he was about to pass out. She shook her head, pulling him inside the apartment in an attempt to break eye contact and put her thoughts in order. She started carrying his suitcases inside as she repeated “No, no, no.”

“No what?” He asked, dripping into her living room. 

“No, he is not in the shower. Finn is on his way to Argentina,” she said after a moment, her hands balled into fists as she worked out the courage to look up at Bellamy. “And no, you are not too late.”

It didn’t matter that he was dripping wet, shivering from the cold, and almost keeling over with exhaustion. Clarke welcomed him into her arms gladly. He held her tight against him, his large hand tangling itself on her hair and breathing in her scent as she buried her face into his neck. How long exactly they held each other, Bellamy didn’t know, but as soon as Clarke kissed him it suddenly didn’t matter anymore. 

 

As he drifted off to sleep, feeling Clarke’s finger run gently over the muscles of his chest, he thought he heard her speak.  _ Broke your heart, I’ll put it back together,  _ she seemed to be saying. But he could have been very easily making it up. Bellamy soon fell into a blissful sleep, exhausted from the long trip and the anxious train ride into the city. Clarke kissed his cheek before making herself comfortable. 

When Finn had asked her to stop torturing herself, Bellamy had been the first thought on his mind. All that time, she had thought that she had pushed him away because it was the best for him. But was it? Maybe Finn had it right, after all, he did know her very well. Maybe Clarke had pushed Bellamy away as a punishment to herself, for lying to her friends, for everything she had done. Maybe she had thought she didn’t deserve to be happy anymore. 

But as Bellamy’s breathing evened out, and his arm remained wrapping around her waist, he realized that she couldn’t do it anymore. Maybe he could wait forever and ever for her. But she was impatient, and she could not go one more day denying her feelings. Just him showing up at her door had been enough to remind her of how it used to be, of the glorious weekend they had spent together before she backed away, panicked. 

She was almost falling asleep when her phone buzzed on her nightstand. All in all, she had forgotten to let Wells know they had made it home. 

“We are home, sorry about not checking in. Can’t talk now, Bellamy is at my place,” she texted Wells, with her free hand, careful not to disturb the freckled man sleeping peacefully next to her. She knew perfectly well that if she returned Wells’ call, his screaming would most definitely wake up Bellamy.

“What?! I thought he would get there on Thursday.”

“Couldn’t wait. He just showed up out of nowhere.”

“Go Bellamy. That’s how you get the girl.”

Clarke grinned, turned off her phone, and curled herself up against him. As she readied herself to fall asleep, there was nothing left but to hope it hadn’t all been a dream. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh! Writing this made me happy, I hope you enjoy!!


	15. I Know Places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy this romantically frustrated Bellarke. Thank you so much for all of your support and stay tuned for the last chapter!!

To put the past behind them was both extremely easy and excruciatingly hard. The next morning, their brunch was interrupted by Octavia and Raven storming inside her apartment using the spare key that Clarke had given them for emergencies. A look into Octavia’s eyes was more than enough to dissuade the blonde from even attempting to point out this was  _ not _ an emergency. Two plates were added to the table, and the four of them enjoyed pancakes as Clarke and Bellamy pretended not to be disappointed by their untimely arrival. 

The two couples headed to the Blake’s apartment, and they helped Raven clear her equipment from Bellamy’s bedroom. Clarke sat on his bed, going through a box filled with his books and returning them to the messy piles that had once filled the room. Bellamy pretended not to notice that she remembered perfectly how he liked his books, even though she had only been in his room for a handful of times. From across the open door, on the other side of the tiny apartment, Raven and Octavia discussed what to do with the equipment that was now displaced. Bellamy sighed. 

“This is not going to work for long, is it?” He asked gently. 

Clarke gave him a soft smile and placed the Iliad at its rightful place on his bedside table before walking up to him. She wrapped her arms around him from the back and kissed his shoulder as he hung  some of his clothes on his cramped closet. “You’ll work it out,” she promised with a whisper. “And until then, I know places we can hide.”

 

However, it proved that hiding was harder than they had originally thought. The next day, Clarke returned to work, and Bellamy surprised by sitting next to her in the stairs as she ate lunch with Miller. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and placed a bag of Thai takeout in front of her. 

“I went to the museum to talk about going back to work, so I thought I’d stop by. Brought enough for both of you,” he said, smirking at Miller, who smirked back. 

“It was about damn time, Blake,” Miller snickered. “This pleases me,” he said moments later, sinking into the brown paper bag. “I told Monty that you guys wouldn’t last the year with this charade of not having feelings for each other. You just made me ten bucks richer.” The security guard took his share of the food and walked away, surely to call his boyfriend. 

Clarke looked at the Thai food, suddenly at a loss of both words and appetite. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Bellamy let out a loud sigh. Clarke pursed her lips and leaned against him. “Yeah, I feel the same way too.”

* * *

 

It was early on Thursday morning when Clarke realized something important: w hen Bellamy had shown up at her door, drenched in rain and blurting out his feelings for her, she had not said it back. Twice now, he had shown up at her apartment unannounced, his heart on his sleeve, and with a life changing three-word confession.  _ I want you. I love you.  _ And this time she had been unable to bring herself to say the truth.

The first time, he had kissed her without giving her any room to think about his declaration. It had been rash, unexpected, and perfect. And as she kissed him back it was impossible but to come up with the perfect response.  _ I want you too,  _ she had said, and it had been true. Just as it would have been true had she said  _ I love you too,  _ when Bellamy pounded on her door earlier on the week. But why, why hadn’t she said it back? 

Clarke couldn’t help but imagine Bellamy torturing himself over the same question. Had she been too shook by his sudden appearance? Or did she simply not reciprocate her feelings?

Her phone buzzed on top of her kitchen counter, and her heart skipped a beat as she read his good morning text. Somehow, it felt wrong to reply with  _ You have a good day too, nerd. I love you.  _ The first time she said those three words to him it should be in person, she decided. He deserved that much, even when he had not said them again since that night, not that she blamed him. She figured he had taken note on her lack of reciprocity, and was giving her space and time, the two gifts that Clarke wished everyone else would give them. 

It soon proved impossible for her to find the perfect moment to say  _ I love you.  _ Bellamy went back to work, and because of his experience abroad his boss was determined to milk out every single drop of Bellamy’s knowledge. They had lunch together three times a week, but they were often interrupted by Miller’s smirks, Octavia’s phone calls, or the occasional Wells’ text. And whenever they spent the night alone, Bellamy was often too tired from work or handling their friends, so it didn't feel quite right. Clarke understood that in Octavia and Raven’s eyes, the two of them had belonged together from the very start, which translated into them going into full double date mode. And even though Clarke and Bellamy enjoyed the board game nights and the brunch invites, they couldn’t find a polite way of saying that they were hoping for some time alone. 

That is, until Clarke had enough, of course.

They had just left the Met’s holiday party early, his hand on her waistline as they walked out proudly. It seemed as if everybody had been whispering as they passed by, so Clarke had downed her champagne flute in one swift movement and suggested him to go to her place. 

“It’s like they are vultures,” she grumbled, fishing her keys out of her handbag and opening the door to her apartment, making him chuckle. They stripped off their heavy coats and hung them on the rack, smiling at each other in the quiet darkness. 

“I’m sorry you didn’t have fun,” he murmured, pulling her closer by the waist. “If it is any consolation, you looked beautiful. Murderous, but beautiful nevertheless.”

Clarke let out a laugh and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her eyes glistening with fondness. “Thanks for coming with me.”

“Anytime, Princess.”

They stood in silence for a second, basking in their closeness. It was thanks to her high heels that she was able to press her forehead to his. “Bellamy, I––”

Her love confession was rudely interrupted by the loud ringtone coming from his breast pocket. Bellamy cursed under his breath, having to break the embrace to get her phone out. “It’s O… she probably wants to know if we are up for a game of Trivial Pursuit.”

“We are not,” Clarke grumbled, and Bellamy agreed. He silenced his phone and placed it face down against the counter, ignoring his sister’s call. 

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

Clarke shrugged, her hands stroking his now tense shoulders as she realized the moment had passed and she had once more lost her opportunity. “I was thinking we should move this to the bedroom,” she said after a heartbeat, whether he realized she was lying or not, she never knew. Bellamy kissed her passionately, pulling her closer as Clarke kicked off her heels, stumbling across her apartment as she fumbled with his suit. Bellamy chuckled against her lips, distracted by the way her cold hands felt under his shirt, guiding her through the darkness. 

“Ouch,” he groaned, having slammed himself against the infamous bookshelf, the one that had witnessed their first horrid fight. The two of them stopped on their tracks, glaring at the furniture as they felt the moment die slowly. 

“I should really get rid of that thing,” Clarke sighed. 

“I hope you are talking about the bookshelf and not about your dashing new boyfriend,” he teased weakly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Clarke let out a single dry laugh, turning on the lights and walking towards her closet, changing into one of his t-shirts for the night, suddenly exhausted. 

 

“It is confirmed, they are vultures,” Clarke groaned as she checked her phone the next morning. “Wells wants to know when he can come visit us, he has a new girlfriend he wants us to meet.”

“Don’t you want to see him?”

“I do. But I don’t want to be stuck in a  _ triple date.  _ I am dating  _ you,  _ Bellamy, not the whole damn country, why is it so hard for everyone to give us some goddamn space?!” Bellamy sighed, pulling her closer as they rested on her bed. Her golden hair was sprawled all across the pillows, and his fingers were tangled with her shirt. It was perfect, unless you counted all the unopened messages they both had. “It’s like they are the hunters and we are the foxes. I swear to god, they can  _ smell  _ it, Bellamy. Every time we get remotely close to enjoying ourselves they––”

“I am enjoying myself,” Bellamy interrupted her. 

Clarke cracked half a smile and turned around in his embrace, stroking his freckled face. “Bell, that’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” he conceded with a sigh. Lately, he had been sighing a lot. Clarke’s eyes followed his, which has drifted towards the bookshelf, feeling her stomach twist into a guilty knot. 

“It is my own fault,” Clarke said after a long pause. “I shouldn’t have told Wells, we should have kept this on the down low for a couple of weeks. Made some time for ourselves. Loose lips sink ships all the time.”

“Not this time,” he whispered, his voice filled with resolve. “We could run, you know?” He whispered, causing her to open her eyes abruptly. “That’s what foxes do, don’t they? Let’s go to your parents’ cabin. That’s one place we won’t be found.”

“We both know how that ended last time,” she replied, her voice small. The prospect of running away was tempting, but she couldn’t help but think about the dark highway and her hateful words. “Plus, there is supposed to be a storm by the end of the weekend.”

“It is a clear day today. It’s early morning. We can have a good breakfast, get some real groceries and head upstate. I’ll be careful this time, I promise.” 

Clarke studied his face. His eyes were honest, and his lips trembled with excitement. She knew that their love was barely a fragile little flame, that it could easily burn out, but she couldn’t help but to be on board with his crazy plan. 

She pressed a kiss to his lips and nodded, to which Bellamy replied by pulling her closer and kissing her passionately. Logistically, it made sense for him to get to his apartment as quickly as possible and pack a bag. So she went to the grocery store nearby and shopped for enough supplies to last for a week, just in case they decided to never come back. 

 

An hour and a half later, Clarke was sitting outside of her apartment, wrapped in a warm coat and surrounded by her suitcase and grocery bags.  _ Bellamy and I are going away for the weekend,  _ she typed.  _ Consider no news good news, please don’t call me. I’ll call you when we get back.  _ She sent the message to Wells, knowing that Bellamy would take care of letting Octavia know. After a moment, she typed again.  _ We promise not to crash this time, ly.  _

A couple of minutes later, he parked in front of her building and helped her get the bags inside his car. It was only then that he realized the almost new bookshelf was beside the garbage container, waiting for a lucky stranger to take it home. The sight of it only fueled his desire to hold her hand and not ever drop it, but he contented himself with kissing her deeply and then focusing on the road, for real this time. 


End file.
